Headfirst for Halos
by Miss Grace O'Malley
Summary: Amnesia is never a good thing. Especially when you're Darcy Lewis. Can she find out who she is? Memories of Brooklyn and the war and...the red room surface more often than not. She was born in 1991; she doesn't have time for that. (Part 3 of the I Saw the Light series)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 _February 9, 2010 – Willowdale, Virginia_

"Ms. Lewis? Ms. Lewis, can you hear me?"

Everything _hurt_.

In fact, she couldn't tell what didn't hurt anymore.

Her eyelids were so heavy, but she struggled to open them anyway, blinking at the harsh light of the room she was in.

"Good girl, open those pretty blue eyes, Darcy."

 _Darcy_ … _that sounded familiar_.

"Wh-where am I?" Her vision was bad, but she blinked a few times to clear the blur. A petite woman in a white lab coat was standing next to her bed and smiling down at her.

"You're at Willowdale General. You were involved in a hit and run. What do you remember?"

"Nothing."

And it was the truth. She had no idea about… _anything_. Wracking her brain seemed to have no effect and her brows creased in confusion. She remembered waking up and that was it. No 'before'. Her name even seemed elusive, but the doctor had filled that it in.

"Nothing?" The doctor flipped open the chart at the end of her bed and scanned it. "Hm, nothing that would indicate a brain injury. A little bump, but…I suppose everything affects people differently. I can have your personal belongings brought in if you'd like."

She nodded. "That would be nice, doctor…"

"Lee. Dr. Lee."

It was only a few minutes later when Darcy had the few belongings that she'd been brought in with spread out on the thin hospital blanket in front of her.

A pair of black leggings, a chunky olive green sweater, two small rectangle boxes – one with wires sticking it of it – a black messenger bag, a pair of yellow canvas tennis shoes, and a black knit hat.

She puzzled over the pieces of clothes. They looked weird, not something she'd wear. But, then again, she wasn't sure who _she_ was.

In the messenger bag, she found a small wallet with an ID and some cash.

 _Darcy Lewis_.

There was another ID that said Culver University and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. _School_? It seemed…familiar. She didn't like school. Or, at least, that's what her gut told her. When she dug a little deeper, she found a set of keys and figured it was for wherever she was staying. The address on her license said that she as living in Willowdale, Virginia and it seemed… _right_ , maybe.

 _Political Science_?

That was weird, too.

"So," Dr. Lee started when she flounced into the room, a small plastic bag in her hand. "I'm going to give you the all-clear to head back to school. The best way to regain memories is to go through the motions, so to speak." She paused and gave Darcy a reassuring smile. "I know this is scary. But you're not going to get better by staying in a place you don't remember. I'm going to keep you for observation just for tonight and you can head back to campus in the morning, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed softly.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 _March 11, 2010 – Willowdale, Virginia – Culver University_

College was a lot different than Darcy expected, not that she had expected a lot. Her professors had been understanding, willing to overlook the days she had missed – apparently it amounted to almost two weeks – and she made up exams, acing them despite her memory. Dr. Lee had said that amnesia was unique to the person experiencing it. Hers mainly seemed to affect her personal life and past memories, but her academic memories were all there.

 _"A+, Darcy," her astrology professor had said when he handed back her final. "To be honest, I didn't even know you were in my class. My TA graded most of the papers and if Dean Richards hadn't come to me and said not to expect your final, I wouldn't have known. I'm glad you're doing better. Let me know if you need anything."_

The rest of her professors had said almost the exact same thing. That they hadn't known her by face, only papers that were always turned in on time and impeccable. She thought that she'd have more of an impact than that. Something inside her told her that she was a loud person, friendly. Being quiet just didn't seem like her.

A few weeks after she'd integrated herself back into the campus, she had received a letter that one Dr. Jane Foster, an astrophysicist, had accepted her internship. In New Mexico. It wouldn't be a hardship to pack up her meager bags and hop on a bus.

She hadn't realized, or rather thought, of how little she truly owned. She had maybe three shirts, a couple sweaters, two pairs of leggings, a pair of jeans in addition to her yellow shoes – _Converse_ , she learned – and her messenger bag. Dr. Lee had informed her that the black box with the wires was called an iPod and she quickly figured out how it use it, puzzling over what was considered music.

Honestly, she was sort of looking forward to the change of scenery. A quick check of her bank account and she purchased her bus ticket for New Mexico.

She also had discovered the internet and was up to her eyeballs in funny videos that was definitely influencing her current snark and attitude. Finding it as entertaining as she did was a surprise of the highest caliber. Her roommate – a girl from Montana – wasn't exactly around enough so Darcy could practice her social skills and the local coffee shop was a little too intimidating even for someone like her.

A change of scenery was exactly what she needed. She'd get her last few credits and graduate without a problem.

* * *

 _May 27, 2011 – Puente Antiguo, New Mexico_

"Jane, so help me God, if you don't put down your laptop, I'm going to shove this poptart so far down your throat that you'll digest it whole."

The petite brunette looked up and rolled her eyes. "That's not how the human body works – "

"Yeah, well, I don't care about that. Eat the damn thing!"

Jane caught the pastry before it hit her face and took a huge bit out of it, snarking at the other girl, "Happy?"

Since arriving in New Mexico – and meeting Jane Foster – she knew that this was where she was meant to be. Being forced to mother-hen someone and decipher shorthand notes than Jane wrote up at three AM in the morning, which Darcy was forced to endure with gallons of coffee, seemed like something she was good at. She _liked_ taking care of people.

Jane was a challenge. She didn't eat nearly as much as she should, she was too absorbed in her work, and she had a penchant for chasing the stars all over the states. Apparently, she'd had an intern before that had lasted a week; the girl had quit and claimed insanity. Jane had no idea what to expect of Darcy when she arrived, but a force-feeding, angsty, little spitfire was not one of them.

Jane had also expected more baggage than just a messenger bag and a backpack for a six-month internship, but she disregarded it quickly in favor of befriending the short brunette. It was nice to have friends again.

"Yes," Darcy quipped back, sticking her tongue out as she rifled through the notes Jane had taken the night before. "Are you sure this is supposed to happen – "

"It's in a few days," she replied with her mouth full of poptart. "It's enough time to study the anomalies and prepare for – "

"For the fantastic lights in the sky, I got it, Janie," Darcy said, "We'll find your bridge."

Jane swallowed. "Thank you. You're…you're like the first person that doesn't think I'm crazy. It a phenomenon that needs to be studied and you're great at reading my notes and – " she broke off, a relieved smile on her face. "Just…thank you."

Darcy grinned back at her. "You still have to eat your poptart."

"Damn."

* * *

 _May 31, 2011 – Puente Antiguo, New Mexico_

"Hit the button, Darce."

"You got it, boss lady."

Darcy pressed the small button to the left of the steering column, smirking as the roof panels of the giant SUV folded open and Jane's makeshift machines pointed towards the dark sky.

"So, what's this 'anomaly' of yours supposed to look like?"

Somehow, they'd managed to pick up Erik Selvig. He was a sort of mentor of Jane's and he was pretty good at the scienc-y stuff. Good enough for Jane to want his opinion, anyway. Darcy thought that it was some kind of misplaced parental approval or something, but she'd never come straight out and ask her.

"It's different each time," Jane answered, shrugging her shoulders as she looked out the window of the vehicle. "Once it looked like…I don't know, melted stars? Pooling in the corner of the sky. But last week, it was a rolling rainbow ribbon – "

"Racing 'round Orion?" Erik shook his head. "I always said you should have been a poet."

Jane smiled. "Hey, Darcy, pass me my gloves, will you?" She took them from the hand Darcy extended and shoved on her too-large gloves. Her brows puckered as she stared at the sky. "It's never taken this long before."

"Can I turn on the radio?" Darcy yelled, looking behind her.

"Sure, if you like rocking out to KFRM, ' _all agriculture, all the time_ '."

Darcy grunted and pulled Jane's notebooks from her messenger bag – brushing the trusty taser she'd bought to the side – handing them over the seat to where the two doctors were staring avidly up at the sky. Jane's hands smoothed over the worn cover reverently and flipped it open, her fingers traced the calculations and charts.

"The anomalies are always precipitated by geomagnetic storms." Jane's fingers stopped on a complicated chart, showing the occurrences and patterns. "The last seventeen have been predictable down to the minute…I don't understand."

Darcy looked out the window, her eyes catching an odd light in the driver's side mirror. It was like a glow that definitely wasn't normal. "Uh, Jane – "

"Shh! There's got to be a new variable…or my equipment's malfunctioning."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with your equipment," the brunette said. She didn't waste time closing up the SUV, ignoring Jane's protests as she slammed the vehicle in reverse and drove towards the light that was erupting in the sky. "Hang on, science nerds."

"Darcy!"

"That's your _subtle_ aurora?"

"No – _yes_!" Jane cried, "Let's go!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Darcy volleyed back, pressing the pedal down and screeching to a stop when something that looked like a lightening tornado touched down in the middle of the desert. "Fuck, I should've taken a job at Burger King – _what the hell was that_?!"

"Darcy, did you _hit_ something?"

"I don't know! I think so?" She panicked. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she grabbed her taser and hopped out of the car. "I think it was legally your fault."

"Get back here!"

She peeked around the car, seeing a man lying flat on his back. His clothes were burnt and tattered and he looked like he seriously needed a shower. Something clicked inside her and she knelt down next to him, her fingers going to his wrist and finding the steady thrumming of a pulse.

"Erik! Grab the first aid kit."

Darcy jumped, not realizing that Jane had gotten out of the car. "I think he's okay," Darcy said. She poked the man's side, entreating him, "C'mon, big guy. Wakey, wakey. I can't go to jail for this. I mean, have you _seen_ me? I'd be a dish in jail – "

"Darcy!"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "He'll see me eventually, boss lady. Oh – there we go! Glad you could join us, sleeping beauty."

His blue eyes pinned her in place and she blinked at him. Something was familiar, yet different. Blond hair, blue eyes…but much too big. Too _much_. It wasn't right.

"Darcy – "

"We have to get him to the hospital," Erik said as he poked his head out of the SUV, hesitant to get too close. "I'll drive."

Jane shook her head, staring at the man staring at Darcy. "Where did he come from?"

Just then, the man jumped up, pacing angrily. His face was directed towards the sky and he ground out, "Father! Heimdall! I know you can hear me! Open the bridge!"

Jane's eyes widened. "Okay, we'll take him to the hospital – "

" _You_! What world is this? Where am I? Answer me!"

Erik slipped out of the SUV and walked wearily up to the scene. He held his hands up and slowly said, "You're in the desert outside the town of Puente Antiguo."

"What realm?" The blond demanded. "Alfheim? Nornheim?"

"Uh, New Mexico, dude," Darcy laughed nervously, her taser in her hand. "Y'know, _earth_."

His eyes landed on the small device and he sneered. "You dare threaten Thor with something so puny – "

He never got a chance to finish because Darcy pulled the little trigger, watching in satisfaction as he convulsed and fell to the ground unconscious. Jane and Erik's head whipped around to her and she shrugged. "What? He was freaking me out."

* * *

 _June 3, 2011 – Puente Antiguo, New Mexico_

Darcy cringed as she looked up at the New Mexico sky, her hand ruffling her hair. Heat was definitely not her thing and she couldn't wait to be back home in…

Where was she from again?

Kansas!

She shook her head. When she'd woken up in the hospital a few months ago, they'd warned her that she might not remember little things. But where she was raised? That kind of felt like a big thing. Amnesia affected everyone differently, she guessed.

The events of the past couple day were crazy to say the least. Having Thor – a _God_ – literally fall to earth in front of her was insane. Having said God fall in love with her boss was sweet, but also insane. Being surrounded by dozens of agents, having her meager belongings gone through, watching a twelve-foot tall robot practically destroy the sleepy town she was holed up in – it was ridiculous.

Waking up and not remembering anything and then being thrust into some sort of reality that was a mix of science fiction and wild west western was enough that Darcy really wished that she remembered her life before. A few snapshots was all she'd brought with her from her dorm and she wasn't in any of them. A farmhouse, a beat-up red truck, and a lake. Now, she was always taking pictures, finding ways to get Jane into her selfie shot and grinning wide with her lips painted up in the most obnoxious red that she could find from the one corner store in town. She felt like it was her somehow, that maybe she used to do before, but she wasn't sure.

A small thud sounded from behind her and she figured it was just the birds trying to nest on the roof of the abandoned car dealership. She'd thought it was crazy that Jane had wanted to rent it, but they also lived out of a ridiculous RV, so…

"You're Darcy, aren't you?"

"Holy fuck balls, dude! Warn a girl!" She nearly screeched when she turned around and met a tall guy with a bow strapped to his back. And were those _arrows_? What the fuck was he, a modern day Robin Hood?

"Just doing my duty," he said with a shrug. At her confused face, he elaborated, "You said that out loud."

"Oh, fuck my life."

He whistled low. "That's new."

"What?"

"Mouth like a sailor."

She cocked her head at him. How the hell would he know what _was new_? She didn't know him. "Who _are_ you?"

He held out his hand to her, a crooked smile across his face. "Clint. Most people know me as Hawkeye."

"Most people? You mean jack-booted thugs?"

He gave a bark of a laugh. "You a friend of Selvig's?"

"You could say that."

He stared at her for a few moments and she pulled her sweater tighter around herself. He was weirding her out. Didn't he know better than to stare at a girl like that? It was like he was _dissecting_ her.

"You don't remember me, do you?" He asked, his lips pursed as he took in her body language.

She swallowed. "Uh, no. Am I supposed to?"

"Your last name is Lewis, right?" At her nod, he wet his lips and sighed. "Was your mom's name Darcy, too?"

"Seriously? Why would my mom's name be Darcy? How weird would that be?" She scoffed, focusing her eyes on her yellow shoes. "I don't know what my mom's name was. I never met her."

"Orphan?"

"I think so."

"You _think_ so?"

"I was in an accident a couple months ago. Amnesia. Or, at least, that's what the doctor told me." She shrugged, holding out her hand for him to help her up. He did so without complaint, pulling her to her feet and wrapping an arm around her waist when she stumbled.

"Amnesia? That's gotta be rough," Clint whistled low. "Seems odd that you got stuck with Foster and a God ends up falling to earth. Almost _kismet_."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Right time, right place, I guess. I would rather not watch all of this dusty city burn, though."

Clint waited until she was distracted and tried to swipe her leg out from under her, but she dodged it, lodging her elbow into the soft spot between his shoulder and neck. He went down and she swung herself behind him, her arm wrapped around his throat in a chokehold. When he made a grunt of protest, she leapt away from him, fear in her eyes.

He coughed as he turned to face her, his knees still against the ground. "Damn, Darce. You weren't exaggerating."

"I wasn't – what? What the fuck just happened? Who are you really?"

"Come back with me."

"I don't know you! Dude, I'm all about hoping on that," she said, pointing her index finger at his body, "But I'm like twenty and I'm pretty sure I'd give you a heart attack at some point – "

"No, no! Not for sex." His palm smacked against his forehead. "I mean, it'd be great, but no. I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements and Logistics Division – "

"SHIELD? Like the government thing?" Darcy asked, taking a few steps back from him as he stood up. "I'm definitely not interested in that."

He shook his head. "I'm not asking you to join. Just…did you even pay attention to what you just did? You're a _civilian_ and you incapacitated me in a matter of seconds when you thought I was a threat. Imagine what you could do – "

"I've obviously watched too much television. Well, I think I have in order to do that. Look, I'm a…a civilian, like you said. I have no business at SHIELD. I'm just trying to get my final credits so I can graduate and get on to the next thing."

"What if I told you that everything the doctor in Virginia told you was a lie?"

The wheels in Darcy's head came to a screeching halt. Her blue eyes were wide and she shook her head in disbelief. "That's – that's not possible. How do you know I was in Virginia? Been studying me? Does SHIELD have a nice little folder named 'Darcy Lewis'?"

"No," he answered truthfully, "But I do. I've had it since 1990. Since you disappeared without a trace."

"No offense, dude, but I wasn't even _born_ yet. I was born in 1991. You must have me confused with someone else." She plucked a piece of lint off of her sweater nervously. She was slowly learning that confrontation was not her strong suit. "Is that why you asked if my mom's name was Darcy, too? Did you know her or something?"

Clint sighed. "I have pictures of us together. Can you…can I at least have your number so I can send them to you when I get back to base?"

"That's the weirdest pick up line ever, but yeah, sure, I guess," she sighed, taking his phone when he offered it and gently tapping in the numbers. She pressed save and handed it back, taking solace in the fact that she could always change her number if she needed to. Not like a lot of people had her number anyway.

"Stay safe, Darcy."

"Keep in touch, soldier."

* * *

 **Be sure to leave a review!**

 **~Grace**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 _June 10, 2011 – New York City, New York_

"What are you doing?"

It was hard as hell trying to find anything in the new base that Clint had been relocated to during his time in New Mexico. He figured grunts had moved all his stuff, leaving it in chaos. He couldn't find his bag that held Darcy's journal and he'd spent nearly two hours tearing his bunk apart and searching the sparse closet.

He'd stayed away from her after she'd given him her number. He didn't want to draw any more attention to her than what was already on her. Coulson had questioned him about their interaction and he'd waved it off as friendly flirting.

 _"You know," he had said slyly, "Pretty girl, long mission. Didn't know if she was interested – "_

 _"Stay away from her like that," Coulson snapped back, "This is a mission, not a brothel."_

Clint shook his head. He'd had enough time to get her out of his system, see her as the mother that he'd always wanted and not a girl that his horny eighteen-year-old self wanted to get in bed – but he had to admit that when she offered, he was extremely tempted. He'd spent years hunting after her, searching for even the slightest trace, and she ended up in bumfuck New Mexico of all places. With a _God_. What were the chances?

"Barton."

Clint looked up from the bag he was searching and gave the redhead a small smile. "Hey, Nat. You're back early."

Natasha Romanoff was what the bureau called an asset. She was a liability if provoked, but for the most part she had no problem doing what was asked of her. Just like his codename was Hawkeye, hers was the Black Widow. Clint only knew pieces of her past, like that she was from Russia and she was older than her file let on. He kept her close because she was similar to Darcy, but not quite. She talked about the Red Room sometimes late at night when they couldn't sleep, leading him to believe that she might have known Darcy at some point. Her memories didn't seem scattered as hers did. Natasha had retained them.

"Finished clearing the red out of my ledger early," she shrugged, leaning against the doorframe and watching him intently. "I got word that I have a new mission and I wanted to check out our new…accommodations before heading out."

"Not to see me," he quipped back.

"Not to see you." She smirked, observing the mess silently. "You know, a few bags were left behind. You could always go check and see if what you're looking was left behind."

Clint barked a laugh. "What would I do without you?"

"Die most likely."

* * *

 _July 19, 2011 – Puente Antiguo, New Mexico_

A loud _ding_ right next to Darcy's head caused her to groan and try to roll to her side, promptly falling off the barstool she'd fallen asleep on.

"What the fuck," she grumbled, her ass hurting from where it hit the cement floors of the car dealership. When she finally managed to sit up, she blinked wearily at the light filtering in through the high windows. "Jane?" She called groggily.

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you wake me up?" She asked as she struggled to her feet and collapsed back onto the barstool. Her eyes found Jane across the island from her, her eyes glazed as she was glued to her laptop.

"Because you would have made me sleep. Or eat. Or both," she shrugged, sucking down a gulp of coffee before her fingers were flying back across the keyboard. "Which, is not on my agenda for the next few hours."

"Did you at least save me some coffee?" Darcy whined, fully aware of how childish she sounded. "Because I can't function – "

"Without the nectar of the Gods. I got you, it's brewing."

She sighed happily. "I love you."

"Feeling's mutual, Pinky."

With a sigh, she gathered enough energy and got to her feet, padding over to the counter that held the brewing machine of life. A mug found her hand and she filled it up before nearly chugging it, ignoring the scalding heat as it burnt her throat. She didn't miss a beat as she filled it up once more and made her way back to the island and snatched away the notes that Jane had been working on. "Hope you don't need these. I'm gonna translate 'em and then you can get them back."

Jane waved at her in an impatient motion and Darcy got to work. She was pretty much a pro at copying Jane's ridiculous scribbles into something coherent.

"Erik wants us to visit him in Norway."

"What?"

The scientist glanced up and cocked her eyebrow. "Erik. I told you that he was in Norway a few weeks ago. Apparently, he'd like if we could visit so we could – "

"Make freaky smart brain babies?"

"Darcy – "

"Nah, I get it." She handed a few of the notes back to Jane and half shrugged. "I don't think I'll have enough money to cover international airfare, boss lady. The stipend I get from Culver is hardly anything and most of it's spent on food."

Jane snapped her laptop closed. It wasn't often that she could be pulled away from her work, especially when she was close to a breakthrough. "You still need your credits to graduate, though. I can…I can keep leasing this place and you can collect the money, if you want. There's only a couple months left of the internship."

"You'd do that? Like, I could stay here and soak up Culver's money and still get my credits?"

"Of course! You have to get your degree."

Darcy smiled. "I'll think about it, Janie."

A _ding_ caught her attention and she looked down at the small phone flip phone that was on the counter next to her. Swiping it, she flipped it open and squinted at the unknown number before opening the message.

 _Told you I'd find it._

Darcy stared down at the picture. It was _her_ with Clint. A younger Clint. She was dressed in some sort of costume with Clint's arms wrapped around her, smiles on both of their faces.

It didn't make sense.

Swallowing noisily, she responded.

 _Where are you? We need to talk._

Her phone buzzed almost immediately and she read the message over and over.

 _New York. Let me know when you're coming_.

How was he so sure she'd run to him? Unless he really _did_ know her. Something was off and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

 _October 7, 2011 – Puente Antiguo, New Mexico_

Sitting on grant money was a lot harder than Darcy thought it would be. She wasn't completely comfortable with not working while Jane was in Norway, so they'd rigged up a system that worked out for both of them. Erik would email Darcy pictures of Jane's notes to be translated. So, Darcy would translate them and set them up in Excel before emailing them back. She made graphs and charts and anything else that she thought would be useful while she waited for enough money to accumulate to actually buy a plane ticket – taking a bus was definitely _not_ in her future. Once was enough, thank you very much.

She got the bare necessities when it came to food, surviving off of poptarts and peanut butter and jelly. Her yellow shoes had seen better days and she was in desperate need of replacing them, but she figured she'd worry about that later. She'd sent a text to Clint a few days ago, letting him know that she'd be flying in on Saturday, early as fuck, and he'd replied with a simple affirmative. It was the little things, she supposed.

Darcy stuffed her backpack full of her clothes and left over food, shoving her laptop in her messenger bag. The keys to the rental were left outside in a lockbox and she had called a cab to deliver her to the nearest airport.

She got the feeling that this wasn't the first time she'd started fresh somewhere new, but she couldn't place it. The longer she tried to focus on a memory, the more elusive it became.

"See ya around, New Mexico," she whispered to herself as she got into the back of the yellow car.

* * *

 _October 8, 2011 – New York City, New York – JFK Airport_

Clint fidgeted. And he _did not_ fidget.

The text from Darcy had been a little out of the blue. When he'd first sent her the picture, he'd expected that she'd be on a plane within a week, not months. He'd been so wrapped up in Tony Stark being an asshole, the Valkyrie being uncovered, problems of _green_ proportions. It was strenuous without adding her to the mix, especially since she had no idea who she really was.

Natasha was curious as to who he was picking up, but he'd kept it as quiet as possible. Fury didn't even know who was coming. Clint had secured a little apartment in Brooklyn – in the same neighborhood she had been raised in when he'd dug into old records and files – and a stipend that wouldn't run out no matter what she needed. She'd be safe.

It was odd that he was the one to take care of her this time around. She'd taken him in when he had nowhere else to go and now he was returning the favor.

His green eyes scanned the baggage claim, seeing that her bags should be arriving any minute.

"Miss me?"

He jumped about a mile as he whirled around. "Jesus, kid. You can't just sneak up on people."

Darcy gave him a one-shouldered shrug and a lopsided smile. She tightened the straps of her backpack and hiked the strap of her messenger bag up. "You ready? Or are we waiting for someone to pick us up?"

"Your bags – "

"This is all I've got," she said, her body language contradicting the ease in her voice. "Pack light, you know?"

Clint knew she'd never been one for having a lot of things. Her trailer at the carnival had mostly held his stuff and she had a bag packed under the couch that he figured was a bug out bag.

"Yeah," he answered, swinging his arm around her shoulder and pulling her towards the exit. "Let's get outta here."

* * *

The ride had been quiet. Darcy had peered out the window with interest, every now and then a puzzled look would cross her face, but she'd shake it away before he could call her on it. He'd rented a black SUV and made sure that it had the darkest tint on the windows as possible.

The apartment was simple and he'd furnished it with the normal things, couch, coffee table, bed, television. There was no way for him to make her feel like she was at home, but he'd tried. He'd left her journal there, too, hoping that she might want to read it at some point.

"I'm not a charity case, y'know," she said softly as she set her backpack down on the granite countertop in the kitchen. She looked uncomfortable. "I could've stayed at a hotel – "

"You took care of me once. It's only fair that I return the favor – "

"Don't – don't feel indebted to me, Clint." Her fingers pulled against her sweater as a headache began forming behind her eyes. She slipped off her shoes and padded into the living room, feeling the fluffy carpet through her worn socks. She could even see the glossy black of her toenail through the hole. "Whatever happened… _before_. I can't remember. Clean slate."

Clint shuffled in behind her, taking a seat on the coffee table when she collapsed onto the couch. She kicked her feet up onto the table next to him and he smiled sadly down at her. "Is remembering something you want?"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Do you want to remember your life? Before."

It was an enticing thought. She wanted to know about her life before her accident, before with _Clint_. Even if it didn't make any sense.

"Maybe we should start with the small things," he suggested, noticing her struggle. "Do you have an questions? Something I could help with?"

"That picture," she started, her brows creased. "When was it taken?"

"Summer, '89. We were traveling with a carnival – that's how we met." He paused, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "I was a little runt of a kid that ran away from home and you found me…took care of me. That was in '81. You disappeared in '90, I couldn't find you and I damn near tried everything. I joined the army sometime after that and got picked up by SHIELD before you popped up again. You kept a journal about what you remembered."

"A journal?" She didn't seem like the writing type.

He nodded. "I held onto it, didn't know if I'd come across you again, but I hoped so." He gave her a smile. "You just haven't aged. I knew…I knew that you wouldn't, but it's weird seeing it firsthand years later. You stayed the same when I grew up and now you're practically a teenager sitting in front of me and I'm an old man."

"You're not old," Darcy scoffed, trying to diffuse the tension. "You're only – "

"Forty. And you don't look a day over eighteen."

"Do you…do you still have the journal?"

Clint nodded. "It's in the bedside table in the bedroom. I want you to lay low for a little while. I've got the apartment pretty stocked and there's some cash and a card in a drawer in the kitchen. There's even a set of keys hanging up if you get stir crazy – "

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because you mean more to me than I think you'll ever understand. Now, get some sleep. I'll swing by in a couple days; call if you need anything."

* * *

She knew she should be sleeping, but the thought of potentially recovering her memories outweighed sleeping. The journal wasn't that big, but all the pages were filled. It looked like it had been read quite a few times, too. It was definitely her writing covering the page and some of the thoughts were as fragmented as she felt.

 _Dark hair, blue eyes. He stopped me from being hit by a car. He was born in Brooklyn. Dark hair, blue eyes, worked at the steel factory and the docks. His family owned a market._

Darcy huffed, flipping the pages and getting frustrated that there wasn't names. There wasn't a lot to go off of. No pictures, just a few notes about a will. About things being left to her.

 _Blond hair, blue eyes. Small, asthmatic. Met him at…the market? His mother was nice. I bought lilies for her funeral. She was Catholic. We all went to church every Sunday._

The pages were covered with memories of the two men. Filled with love and thoughts and feelings that made her chest hurt. Her fingers fiddled with one of the metal bands around her wrists, her eyebrows creasing as she tried once more to pull it off. Jane had offered to cut them off, but Darcy felt like they were important. Like she shouldn't get rid of it.

Sighing, she flipped through the journal once more, reading about her time in Russia. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 **Be sure to leave a review!**

 **~Grace**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 _October 8, 2011 – New York City, New York_

Sun streaming through the window is what woke him first. The second is the static of the radio replaying the game that he and Bucky had sat through just a few years before. He blinks, his teeth gritting at the ache in his neck.

" _Curve ball, high and outside for ball one. So, the Dodgers are tied, 4 – 4. And the crowd well knows that with one swing of his bat, this fellow's capable of making it a brand-new game again."_

Steve sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. What happened? This wasn't his apartment in Brooklyn. Was it a dream? A quick glance down proved that his body was still different, still _big_.

He sprung to his feet, nearly tripping over the shoes that were next to the bed. When the door opened, he stood defensively, backed into the corner.

"Good morning," the woman said, dressed in standard agent attire. A quick glance at her watch and she smiled back up at him. "Or, should I say, afternoon?"

"Where am I?" He asked, his throat dry and his voice scratchy.

"You're in a recovery room in New York City."

 _"The Dodgers take the lead, 8 – 4! Oh, Dodgers! Everyone is on their feet. What a game we have here today, folks. What a game indeed_!"

Steve watched the woman, suspicion lingering in his gut. "Where am I really?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand," she fretted.

"The game. It's from May 1941. I know, 'cause I was there." He prowled closer to her, systematically looking for a way out that didn't include the window. He was _not_ fond of jumping out of windows. "Now, I'm gonna ask you again. Where. Am. I?"

"Captain Rogers – "

Steve didn't even stop to think about what he was doing. He barreled through what he assumed was solid wall and took off running, sans shoes. Somehow, he'd made it out of the building and was hauling ass down the streets that looked familiar but different.

When he finally stopped, he's surrounded by large automobiles and graphics seemingly painted on the buildings, but they're _moving_.

"At ease, soldier!"

Steve whirled around, meeting a man with an eye patch and an apologetic look on his face. Or something that resembled one.

"Look, I'm sorry about the little show back there, but…we thought it would be best to break it to you slowly."

The blond swallowed hard. "Break what?"

"You've been asleep, Cap. For almost seventy years."

It was like a hit to the gut. _Seventy years_. That's…that was enough time for his kids to grow up and have kids of their own. Enough time that he should have been in the ground and rotting for a while. But…he'd been _asleep_.

"You gonna be okay?" The man asked, real concern marring his features now.

Steve stared blankly.

His life was over as he knew it. Everything would be different now.

His life. His girl. _Darcy_. _Bucky_.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I just…I had a girl."

* * *

 _October 9, 2011 – New York City, New York_

"There's a gym downstairs, armed security, and a few cameras installed around to make sure no one tries to fuck with you."

Steve bristled at the language, but nodded anyway. The apartment was sparse and tidy, not what he was used to at all. Bucky used to leave his shoes wherever and Darcy was always dropping her purse and coats near the door in a pile. He'd never really lived on his own.

Director Fury had tried to make him at home without pulling punches. He explained that the world was different now, that it wasn't the city he remembered.

"Thank you, Colonel," Steve said, a tight smile on his lips. "Did – well, was there anything recovered with me when I was…pulled out?"

"There were a few items. They'll be returned to you after some more examination, I promise." Director Fury slid the apartment keys across the coffee table. "If you need something, call. There's a phone in the kitchen and a cell in the bedroom. Laptop's set up in the office, browse all you want. It'll help you get acclimated."

Steve picked up the keys and pocketed them. His brows furrowed as he asked, "If I wanted to know about someone…who could I ask? Is there a file room – "

"We have a database, but it's secure. Any particular name you're lookin' for, Captain? Maybe a 'Peggy Carter'?"

"No, no – is Peggy still alive?"

"In a treatment facility upstate. Still a hell of a lady, but doesn't remember much most of the time."

Steve swallowed. The fact that Peggy was alive…she had to be in her _nineties_. Like he should be. Shaking his head, he sighed, "I'm looking for a woman. Her name was Darcy Lewis. I have her birth date – "

"I'll look into it. In the meantime, get some rest, Cap."

* * *

 _October 15, 2011 – Brooklyn, New York_

"I kissed you."

Clint dropped the knife in his hand, sidestepping it before it could do damage to his foot. His green eyes found hers across the kitchen and he stuttered, "W-what?"

"I kissed you," Darcy said, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Her small hand ghosted over her hip and she flinched. "I hurt myself. And you…you helped me undress because I couldn't do it on my own. I…I kissed you. And you kissed me _back_."

"It was a hundred percent platonic," he said as he raised his hands. "I mean, I liked you at the time, don't get me wrong, but you belonged to someone else. You weren't mine, Darce."

Hopping up on the counter, she swung her legs for a moment before she cocked her head. "Did you find…who you belonged to? Jane explained soul marks to me and – "

"Yours are underneath your bracelets, sweetheart," he rushed to add, taking in her sad look. "One of your partners made them for you and you never could figure out how to get them off."

"Oh," she whispered. She pulled the chunky sweater tighter around herself as her fingers felt her bracelets. Her writing wrote Clint off as more of a…child than anything else, but she had the memory of kissing him at the forefront of her mind, the first thing she remembered.

"You said my words, but I didn't say yours," he said sadly, his calloused fingers running down her cheek. He treated her differently than he'd ever treated any girl and it was a little strange. He was protective of her.

She leaned into his touch, hyperaware that his lips were mere inches from his. His breath was warm against her lips and she sighed when he kissed her forehead instead. Disappointment was not something she was well versed in.

"I love you, Darcy. Like family. I can't…I can't sleep with you," he apologized, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her tight against his broad chest. "I'm tryin' to take care of you the best way I know how."

Her arms wrapped around him as she murmured words of thanks.

* * *

 _November 24, 2011 – Brooklyn, New York_

It was pitiful. Well, she was pitiful.

It was Thanksgiving and she was alone. Clint had been called away on a mission and Jane had flown to her mother's in London. A trip to the grocery store had proved less than fruitful with a small turkey breast and a can of whole jellied cranberries. It was meager at best, but enough to keep her fed.

She had a few memories surface over the past couple months, all involving Clint. She remembered finding him hiding by the trashcans and giving him a bath to clean him up. Stitching up his knee when he split it open and kissing boo-boos when he fell. She'd morphed from an insecure eighteen-year-old to a mother hen, making sure he was fed when he came to visit her and that no new bruises had cropped up from missions.

She led a quiet life. She minded her own business, went to a mom and pop grocery store, took walks down to the Brooklyn Bridge. The city called to her in a familiar way. She found herself walking streets that she shouldn't know, taking alleys that were deemed dangerous. But, according to her journal, she was born in New York City, running wild through the streets of Brooklyn. Her boys…Steve and Bucky were her partners in crime, the loves of her life. It had come to her a few nights before, pairing the blond hair with Steve and the dark hair with Bucky.

Darcy would find out what happened to them. What happened to _her_.

* * *

 _January 3, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

"It's called the Avengers Initiative."

It had taken some doing to get such a group of humans together. Even SHIELD had struggled, but Tony Stark had made it happen. However, he never took no for an answer.

Director Fury sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as his eye swept the room. To the left sat the illustrious Black Widow and Hawkeye, to the right Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, and sitting opposite at the other head was Captain America.

"I know that for most of you this will be the first time meeting one another – "

"Well, I know that little slice – almost killed me," Tony interrupted, pointing a finger at the Black Widow. "The one next to her, eh, he's not my type. Bruce here is a wealth of science knowledge that I would _love_ to dive in to. And Capsicle over there is the remains of my dear old dad's science project. Yeah, Barton, that's Captain America, in the unfrozen flesh."

"Enough, Stark," Director Fury barked, slamming his fist down on the table. "The point of this little mission is to protect the earth. We've had _Gods_ fall to earth, destroy a one-pony New Mexico town, and then beam up like nothing ever happened. We need someone to protect the citizens should the need arise."

"And I'm funding this little venture," Tony said as he stood, rubbing his hands together in glee. His Black Sabbath shirt was taut across his chest and a small light could be seen emitting from behind it. "You'll all have your own rooms, different floors, all amenities included – "

"You're a hotel, now?" Barton asked as he rolled his eyes.

"It'll foster feelings of family. No more bases for you or Widow over there. Cap can move in instead of living in that depressing apartment, and Bruce will have somewhere safe."

Bruce Banner sighed loudly, drawing the attention of the room. He took his glasses off and set them on the table before pinching the bridge of his nose. "We don't have a choice, do we?"

"Unlimited lab access, Banner. Well, not to mine, but to the other ones. You can science until your heart's content."

"I've got a – uh, um, _friend_ – "

Tony's eyes widened. "You mean, you two aren't," he motioned between him and Natasha wildly before whistling lowly. "I guess you can bring your main squeeze with you, Barton. The more the merrier. Hey, can she cook? Takeout is only appealing for so long."

"On to more important things," Director Fury rumbled, "Now, who's on board?"

All of the hands rose around the table, the last being the Captain's.

Director Fury smiled. "Welcome to the Avengers."

* * *

"How do you feel about moving?" Clint asked as he picked at his lasagna.

Darcy perked up, giving him a strange look. "What do you mean? Am I leaving?"

"I got an offer to move to Manhattan. Be part of a big…thing. It would kinda be like an apartment thing," he shrugged, tapping his fingers against the beer bottle next to his plate. "I'm pretty sure you'd be the only one there that wasn't part of it. But, I don't want to leave you here, Dee."

She nodded, setting her fork down on her plate. She and Clint had grown close in the past months, but she didn't want to rely on him all the time. "Would I be able to get a job?" She asked.

"I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem, but you don't need to – "

"I _want_ to," she shrugged, "It's hard being trapped in here and expecting you to take care of me. I've gotta get back into society eventually."

"I'll see if they've got somethin' at SHIELD for you. You've already signed enough NDAs anyway."

"But then you'd be _giving_ me a job instead of me working for it."

He snorted. "You have an education, Darce. I wouldn't be giving you anything. You'd earn it with that brain of yours." He chewed his lasagna thoughtfully. "Fury'll be happy. Maybe you could be his assistant. He's always scaring his off."

"Thank you," she smiled, squeezing his hand across the table.

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

* * *

 _January 21, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

The neighbors were…quiet. Darcy didn't think she'd ever stayed in a place so quiet before. Maybe Tony Stark had everything soundproofed. Maybe they were never home. Maybe they were secret spy ninjas who played 'the floor is lava' all day, every day. Even so, it was strange.

When Clint was home, she badgered him about his work and let him eat all the candy he could stuff in his mouth. She figured it was a fair trade off. She wasn't really comfortable with leaving the apartment. The furthest she ventured was the lounge area – with a kitchen, thank _God_ – and she'd sit in there for a few hours in the morning with a mug full of coffee until JARVIS alerted her that someone was coming.

Darcy wasn't keen on meeting the other Avengers just yet. She and the J-Man had it covered with avoiding anyone but Clint. And Stark. JARVIS couldn't warn her when his creator was coming, something about programming, and Clint was too often climbing through the vents and surprising her.

She'd established a pretty good relationship with the artificial intelligence. He never once asked her why she wanted 1930's music on loop or why she perused the war files that had an inch of dust on them. She had a habit of asking him about things she didn't understand and he always explained with stiff indifference.

It was the oddest thing feeling like she didn't belong. It felt that way at Culver, too. But when she'd ended up in New Mexico with Jane, it felt like one of her missing pieces was found. Jane didn't mind her big mouth or unfiltered thoughts. She looked at her like an equal and Clint was the only one to do the same so far. However, he also shared her dry humor and love of inappropriate jokes. Sometimes it just felt like she was in the wrong time.

Early morning coffee was her only solace since Clint snored enough to be heard through all the walls in their spacious apartment. The lounge had a beautiful view of the city and she loved watching the sunrise.

"Ms. Lewis, the Captain will be entering the lab in approximately ten seconds," JARVIS spoke, causing her to jump.

Leaping up, she took her mug into the kitchen and set it in the sink before slipping out the adjoining door. "Thanks, J-Money."

* * *

"Captain Rogers, the lounge is empty."

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at the coffee maker, noticing the carafe was half-full as usual. There was a pink mug sitting in the sink and he knew it belonged to the woman Clint had brought along.

"Thank you, JARVIS." He pulled his own mug from the cabinet and filled it. He'd never cared for coffee, but _she_ 'd loved it. It was like a link to her and Bucky in some ways.

His shirt clung to his skin, sweat still beading on his forehead. Running was one of the only ways to help him keep focus. Sometimes, it felt like the world was closing in on him, that he wasn't adjusting fast enough. He thought that he'd picked up modern comforts well enough. The internet, Youtube, even a thing called a smart phone.

He tried to get along with the others, but they didn't understand him. Director Fury had brought the items that were recovered from the Valkyrie and he was more than relieved to see that Darcy's photo had been there – damaged, but mostly intact. His suit was worse for wear and his shield was nearly unrecognizable, but Tony had brought him another one that Howard had held onto, claiming that he'd need it for whatever mission they'd be called on.

"Captain Rogers, Mr. Barton is requesting your expertise on the shooting range."

Steve laughed to himself. "Is that what he said, JARVIS?"

"I believe his exact words were 'tell that yuppy fuck to get down here so I can shoot at him'."

"That sounds more like him."

* * *

The smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air and Darcy was rattling with excitement. The best way to make friends was to offer food and worm her way from the stomach to the heart. Four dozen cookies sat cooling on the racks above the stove and she gingerly pulled out the next pan when the oven beeped accordingly.

She thought about wrapping them in cellophane, but decided that it would just get in the way.

"Hey, sweetheart," Clint greeted her, kissing her cheek and swiping a cookie from the hot sheet. "Everyone's gonna be here soon – "

"I know," she said quickly. Her hands smoothed down her ratty black leggings slowly, showing her nerves. Maybe she should've taken Clint's advice and purchased a few new outfits, but she was proud if anything. She wanted to be able to buy her own things. As it was, she was wearing one of his shirts that he'd discarded a few days ago – he'd teased her about his 'funk', but she honestly didn't mind. Wearing men's shirts felt familiar, even if it was tied with a hair tie in the back to keep it from falling to her knees. "I thought this would be a good way to kinda introduce myself."

"You and baking. Wonderful idea, short stack."

Darcy blinked up at the man that entered the room, instantly knowing who he was. "Mr. Stark – "

"Please, Mr. Stark was my father. I'm Tony." He held out his hand to her and she shook it shyly, squeaking when he spun her around in a circle and whistled low. "Short stack, more like short _and_ stacked. What're you doing shacking up with Barton? He's an old dog. And you know what they say, can't teach an old dog new tricks."

"Hey!"

"Clint and I are just friends…Tony." She reached for one of the cool sheets and offered it to him. "Cookie?"

His eye twitched a bit, but he relented. "I normally don't like people handing me things, but I'll make an exception." He bit into the cookie and made an ungodly sound. "Definitely worth it. Do you take orders?"

"I can bake just about anything – "

"Might want to bag up a few of those for Bruce before Captain I-Eat-Everything gets here," Tony suggested, waving to the ones still cooling. "I'd tell you where the bags are, but I don't have a clue. I doubt Pepper does either."

"You can bake anything?"

"Nat! Meet – "

" _Sirena_ ," the redhead finished, sizing her up from the doorway. When she walked, she prowled like a panther and it caused the hair on the back of Darcy's neck to stand at attention.

Something was…familiar about this woman, but she couldn't place it.

Three exits. Three possible threats, volatile if provoked. Steel knives in the drawer to the left. Ability to reach before –

" _Eto bylo v to vremya_."

Darcy's eyes snapped to her and she gave her a grin. " _Slishkom dolgo_."

"Your girlfriend speaks Russian? Color me impressed," Tony snarked as he nabbed another cookie.

Clint's eyes were wide as he looked between the women. "You two…you know each other?"

" _Kasnaya komnata_."

"No."

They both spoke at the same time. Darcy shook herself out of the weird space she'd fallen into mentally, pasting a smile on her face.

"Ooookay," Clint said, looking at Darcy with concern. "You okay?"

"Of course," she nodded, stuffing a cookie in her mouth.

Natasha snagged a cookie and bit into it, a smirk playing at her mouth. " _My pogovorim pozzhe_."

" _Da_ ," Darcy said softly. "I…I think I'm going to go back to the apartment for now."

No one could stop the petite brunette as she ducked out of the room, leaving the cookies behind. Clint watched as Tony bagged up about a dozen cookies – only _after_ JARVIS had told him where they were located – and sauntered out, leaving him with Natasha. He was a little uncomfortable and he was _never_ uncomfortable around her.

"So…what the hell was that?"

Natasha shrugged, stacking a few cookies together on the counter and avoiding his eyes. "Old friends catching up. But…she's different, no?"

"You knew Darcy before," he said flatly, his jaw ticking. "In Russia. Didn't you? Why didn't you – "

"Why didn't I say something?" She asked, finishing his sentence. "You never introduced me to her. You've kept her locked in your apartment – "

"She didn't want to leave!"

" – and I didn't expect her to be…to not truly remember. They must've wiped her before releasing her again. Have you had JARVIS scan her for a tracker? The last thing we need is for HYDRA to be on our doorstep."

Clint looked at her sharply. "I thought you defaulted from the KGB – "

"Same thing in Russia," she said with an impatient wave of her hand. "Two agencies working towards the same goal. I can't tell you her story, only she can do that."

"Nat – "

"But…if she remembers…just remember how I was when I first came to Fury. It'll be worse for her. She hasn't had time to work through the red in her ledger yet."

* * *

It was late when Steve finally wandered into the lounge. He'd made some pitiful excuse for spaghetti for dinner in his apartment, also massacring the recipe of what he thought he remembered for Darcy's garlic bread. Dinner had become a lump of noodles drowned in sauce with burnt bread slathered in garlic butter. Bucky, bless his heart, had tried so hard to teach him how to cook and it just didn't stick.

His nose led him to the cookies abandoned on the counter and he looked down at them curiously. They were chocolate chip, but had little heart thumbprints in the middle like Darcy used to do. His lips turned up in a half smile as he took one, closing his eyes at how familiar they tasted. Darcy's baking was always a treat; flour was expensive and Bucky could only grab so much from the store before his father would notice it was missing.

He'd asked JARVIS for a comprehensive list of casualties from Pearl Harbor, both relieved and worried when her name wasn't on it. The Dorsetts had fostered a few kids after Darcy before they retired to Florida. It'd been difficult to dig up anything on Sean 'Spot' Conlon, but he'd found out that he was in a retirement home getting ready to celebrate his birthday. Not bad for a one hundred and six-year-old. Darcy didn't have any family other than them.

He learned from the internet that Sergeant James Barnes was marked as killed in action on January 18th, 1944. His family had received his flag and they had a wake held at the same church where he'd attended his ma's funeral. The Barnes' had lost the market in 1946 and they moved back to the boroughs to be close to Mrs. Barnes family. Not a lot could be found after that. He knew that Bucky had left everything to Darcy – and everything consisted of the deed to the Rogers' apartment in Brooklyn and all the money in his bank account. But, as far as JARVIS could tell, it had never been claimed. The account was up to a ridiculous amount and the apartment had withheld the stand of time, staying locked up and occasionally tended to by the supers of the building – thanks to one Howard Stark. He made a mental point to go visit sometime soon.

He didn't know why he set a new pot of coffee to brew for the morning, but he did. Clint's girlfriend was pretty good about leaving the lounge before him – and cleaning up after herself – so he figured that it was a nice thing to do.

Grabbing a plate, he loaded it up with some cookies and ventured back to his room after putting the rest in a tupperware container. He had a lot to think about.

* * *

 _January 22, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

Weak coffee always made Darcy cringe. When she made it, she made it as dark as she could and avoided any cream or sugar like the plague. However, it was a nice gesture when she wandered into the lounge before dawn to find the coffee finishing its brewing cycle.

She rinsed out the pink cup she'd left in the sink the day before, noting that it now had a blue friend. She picked up the cup and rinsed it out with soap before drying it and putting it away.

Darcy had run away before she could meet the remaining occupants of the tower. Shame burned in her cheeks as she poured herself some coffee, grimacing at the watered-down taste. It was…coffee flavored water at best. But it was still a nice thought.

"J-Man, what year did the war end?"

"What war are you referring to, Ms. Lewis?"

She thought about it. "World War II."

"The second world war ended on September 2nd, 1945. The United States was victorious."

She sighed. Her journal was sketchy when it came to that time. "JARVIS, do you have access to…war records? Like, if I asked you a name?"

"I have limited access to war records from the second world war. However, if it were made public record, it could be recovered. What name did you have in mind, Ms. Lewis?"

"James Barnes, born March 10th, 1917."

"Sergeant James Barnes was a member of the one hundred and seventh regiment later known as the Howling Commandos. He was killed in action on January 18th, 1944. His body was never recovered after a confrontation with a war captive."

She swallowed hard. Her voice wavered slightly as she asked, "Do you have a photo of him?"

The television on the left side of the wall flashed to life, displaying a grainy photograph of a dark haired man with a hat, fitted in a dark uniform with a tie. His mouth was pulled up into half a smile, the dimple in his chin pronounced. He looked so…carefree. So much like how she described him in her journal.

"There is also audio, Ms. Lewis. Would you like me to play it?"

"Audio?"

"A recording of Private Barnes accepting his promotion to Sergeant."

She nodded and JARVIS took that as consent.

 _"Private Barnes, the title of Sergeant comes with many responsibilities. Responsibilities to your unit and your country. Do you accept your position_?"

" _I, James Buchanan Barnes, accept this position of Sergeant_."

Her knees met the floor before she realized what had happened. Darcy keened into the empty room, memories filling her head of Bucky, of Steve, of Brooklyn. Her heart broke all over again, her lungs unable to pull in enough air. It was messy and loud and completely undignified, but completely necessary.

It was like a piece of herself was slowly mending itself and it was one of the most painful things she'd ever experienced.

"Ms. Lewis, would you like me to alert Mr. Barton – "

"No," she sobbed out. Her hand clutched her chest as she drew in shuddering breaths. "I…Jay, where's the Tylenol? My head…" She swayed on her knees, gritting her teeth against the pain and trying to struggle to her feet.

"There is pain reliever in the cupboard above the stove. Might I also suggest burn cream?"

Her hands shook as she looked at them, red and angry from the hot coffee splashing on her. The pink mug was in pieces next to her feet and she was thankful that she hadn't cut herself.

"Ms. Lewis, the Captain is on his way – "

"Thanks," she mumbled, leaping up and grabbing a bottle of Tylenol before skittering out the door.

* * *

It was like a punch to the gut.

As soon as he opened the door to the lounge, there was a picture of Bucky that faded away against the television screen. He barked, "JARVIS, what the hell was that?"

"I apologize, Captain Rogers, I'm not at liberty to discuss the conversations that take place with other occupants of the tower."

He rolled his eyes, assuming that he'd imagined it, and made his way into the kitchen, his brows furrowing when he kicked something that soared across the floor and cracked. There was coffee pooled on the ground and remnants of a pink mug.

Had his coffee been so bad that it chased her away? That seemed illogical.

Sighing, he gathered up the broken pieces and threw them in the trash before wiping up the liquid with a towel. He hoped she was okay. It didn't seem like normal behavior to leave broken cups for anyone to hurt themselves on.

"Can you…can you order a new cup for Barton's girlfriend, JARVIS?"

"I can order a new mug for Mr. Barton's roommate. Will pink suffice?"

Steve smiled a little. "That'll be fine."

* * *

"What the fuck! It's like, morning still," Clint bemoaned, pulling his pillow over his face and trying to dislodge the unmoving lump that had situated itself on his legs. "I don't have training. I want to sleep."

Darcy sighed. She grabbed the pillow from him and whacked him across the face with it. "I'm having an existential crisis. It would be _great_ if you'd wake up enough to care for a few minutes. I have coffee – "

He was up like a shot, wrestling her to the bed to climb over her and get to the nightstand. His hand smooshed against the side of her face and she yelled out to get him off. His knee was lodged against her armpit, his left hand against her face as he drank from the mug she'd brought him.

After a few moments, he sighed and smiled down at her disgruntled expression. "Ah. You can speak now."

"Put down the coffee."

As soon as the porcelain of the mug made contact with the wooden table, she grabbed his wrist and pulled _hard_ , narrowing her eyes in satisfaction when he flipped onto his back. Her calf was flush against his throat, her weight supported on the leg she had propped between his legs.

"A little close to the goods, Darce." His eyes widened even more as he sputtered, "W-wait. Existential crisis – "

"Oh good, you _were_ listening."

" – what happened?"

She sighed and pushed herself off of him, sitting between his legs as he sat up. "I remembered something. _James_. I made JARVIS research him and he pulled up a photo and an…an audio clip. When I heard his voice…" she shivered involuntarily. "It was like a dam that broke and I remembered. I _remembered_ my life – pieces of it, anyway. Pieces with them and I remembered being happy."

"But you don't remember all of me yet."

"I remember that we _kissed_ and – "

He shook his head. "That's not the important part. I…nevermind." He paused. "You had a moment with Nat last night. Did you remember anything from that?"

"She was in…the Red Room," Darcy creased her brows and she tried to pull at a memory that was dancing on the edge of her mind. "But her name wasn't Natasha, it was…Natalia? And my name wasn't Darcy…I can't remember clearly. I know that it was a HYDRA thing from my journal, but I don't…there's these images. And the more I try to weave them together, the harder they are to find." Her eyes shined with tears and she wiped them away angrily. "But I know, I _know_ James. I know him like the back of my hand and – fuck, Clint! Why is this all so fucked up?"

He pulled her against him as she cried, his arms tight around her as she shook.

"We'll figure it out, sweetheart."

* * *

 **Be sure to leave a review!**

 **~Grace**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 4_**

 _January 30, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

It was a unanimous decision that Darcy and Natasha be stuck in a room together to work on things. And, by unanimous, it was meant that Clint decided. Natasha thought that a therapist might be a better fit, but Darcy was stubborn about learning her past. She had even let JARVIS scan her for the tracker that Natasha was so worried about.

For the past week, she'd met daily with the redhead. She'd brought her journal along and Natasha answered all the questions she could, but there were still many blanks that needed to be filled in.

"Do you remember much about the Red Room?"

Darcy tilted her head to the side. "I remember meeting you. I remember…pain. There's not much I can remember other than that."

" _Sirena_."

She sat ramrod straight. Her mind going blank as she stared at the redhead intently.

"Darcy."

"What the fuck," she breathed, shaking out her limbs. She swallowed convulsively. Her eyes blinked as she controlled her breathing. "What the fuck was that? What – "

"That was your codename. It was assigned to you before you reached the Red Room." Natasha rapped her fingernails against the granite of the counters as she looked out the window at the dimming sky. "I never met your handler, just those assigned to the case at the KGB and occasionally HYDRA. My handler and you were…close. You recognized him from before the Red Room and he _knew_ you. I lost track of you after we recovered you in Brooklyn in '55. Don't give me that look; we both had very similar injections that keep us from aging as quickly. You…maybe not at all."

"Recovered me?" She asked. Her bottom lip was tugged between her teeth in worry as her pen stilled over the pages of her journal. "What…who was with you? What happened?"

Natasha's body stilled, clearly distancing herself from the memory to give her the facts without the emotions that came with them. "In 1952, you were dropped in New York City to test your programming. You were completely wiped, left with no memories. HYDRA watched you, watched you get a job and find housing. When you started getting too close to remembering, my handler and I were sent to retrieve you.

"You didn't go without a fight. I…" Natasha looked away, shame coloring her face. "I was forced to use your trigger words to make you come quietly. It was as much of a test for me as it was for you."

She reached out and held Natasha's hand across the table. "I don't blame you. I have a feeling we were…friends?"

"Like sisters," the redhead whispered back. "I wouldn't have survived the Red Room if it wasn't for you. When you…when I lost contact with you, I feared the worst. I lost you _and_ my handler. It was…it would've been debilitating to anyone else."

Darcy smiled softly before her face turned serious again. "My trigger words…what are they?"

"I can write them down for you; I don't want to risk releasing _Sirena_. Especially because you've made so much progress."

"Your handler…did I – "

"He was called _Soldat_." Natasha cringed at saying it. "But you were close. As close as HYDRA would let you be."

* * *

 _February 2, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

"Stone. _Kamen_ ," Darcy read, looking down at Natasha's neat writing.

It was her first trigger word. A first on a long list that the redhead had been hesitant to hand over.

"Do you have any idea what it might be referring to? Trigger words normally have a basis in your life _before_ ," Natasha explained. "If we can narrow it down, we might be able to free you of them."

"Stone…"

 _The cold was starting to creep into the old concrete building and, not for the first time, she longed to have a blanket warm enough to sustain the chill._

"The orphanage in the city," she recalled, writing as she spoke, "It was always so cold because it was a huge concrete – _stone_ – building. I didn't have a blanket that was warm enough. One of my first memories is of the cold there." She looked back at the list and pronounced the word slowly. "Family. _Sem'ya_."

"Maybe that's tied into the orphanage?"

She shook her head. "I was…I was adopted. The…fuck, the Dorsetts? They adopted me when I was still little." With a sigh, she went on to the next word. "Fire. _Ogon_. I don't know this one. I was in a circus with Clint, but I don't know about… _before_. And these trigger words were in place before that."

Natasha reached across the table and put a little star next to that one as Darcy read off the next one.

"Ink. _Chernila._ Dawn. _Rassvat_." She tapped the pen against her lips. "I sold…newspapers. I had to get up at dawn to make it to Brooklyn on time. Someone walked me there and I had to be up at dawn so I wouldn't miss him."

 _Dawn was waking up the sleepy city of Brooklyn and she spotted a newsie on the corner that she used to sell her own papers at._

Natasha nodded. "Also the time we had to get up in the Red Room."

"Thunder. _Grom_. I've always hated storms. We didn't have a lot of thunder in Brooklyn and when it happened…I'd hide in the broom closet downstairs at the orphanage." Her pen glided across the paper before she put a star next to the next word. "Ribbon. _Lenta_. I'll pass on that one. Sixteen. _Shestnadtsat_. The age I lost my virginity to…to Stevie."

"That's a story I'd like to hear," the redhead said wolfishly before laughing at the look on the brunette's face. "I'm kidding, _myshka_."

Darcy colored. "I'm not good at girl talk," she muttered, blue eyes glued to the paper. "Circus. _Tsirk_. Huh, maybe I was part of a circus before Clint. That would explain why I'd go back to it." She paused and puzzled over the last word. " _Platit_ …apology? Regret…"

"Atonement," Natasha supplied, her eyes looking as heavy as she felt. "Atonement for something you did, maybe?"

Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to focus on the ache that was growing in her head. "I…I left them when I was…before I left for Russia. I can't remember though."

The redhead watched the other woman's tells closely, deciding to call it a day. "You've worked out a lot today. Maybe we could continue tomorrow."

She gave her a thankful smile. "You're the best, Talia."

* * *

 _February 5, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

Ten punches and the second bag flew off of the hook and landed somewhere near the first one. Steve grunted in annoyance and retrieved a third bag, hanging it just as a throat cleared behind him.

"You seem more tense than usual."

Blue eyes landed on the Black Widow's lithe form and he nodded curtly. His knuckles were swollen and there were heavy circles under his eyes, but he was somehow still on his feet. "You've been more relaxed lately," he noted, watching a small grin flitter across her face before it was gone. "It's not a bad thing, Nat."

"You and I are not so different," she said quietly, stalking towards him. "This world is hard to adjust to, no?"

"At least you were _awake_ for it." He didn't mean for his words to come across as snide as they did and he immediately backpedaled. "That's not what I meant – you've just been able to see the world change. I'm still expectin' to wake up in my apartment in Brooklyn and have my best friend ribbin' me 'bout forgettin' my inhaler or wakin' up to a face full of my girl's hair – " he stopped abruptly, shaking his head. "It's a different world out there. A different time."

She watched as he gave the bag a halfhearted hit. "You're doing well, though. Better than me before I had my _myshka_."

"You're…what?"

" _Myshka_." Natasha shrugged, " _Sirena_. Serena. We've been playing around with names to get her more comfortable with her past."

He nodded. "Clint's girl?" At Natasha's head tilt, he elaborated. "Well, she lives with him. I assumed."

"She is his girl, but he was her boy first," she said cryptically.

"That's…less than helpful, Nat." He shook his head and flexed his hands. He hadn't really boxed before; Goldie's Gym was before the serum and the bag had made a hell of an opponent. He'd watched Bucky wail on a bag dozens of times, always needing his knuckles taped up because he refused to wear gloves. "She doesn't come out much, though."

"She made cookies."

Steve gave a half-shrug. "But she didn't introduce herself."

The redhead had a wicked gleam in her eye as she purred, "Are you interested in meeting her, Steven?"

"No! I mean, not like that," he finished awkwardly. The tips of his ears were warm and he knew he was blushing. He was never good with dames. Except Darcy.

"It's probably for the best," she continued, barely glancing at him. "Once she gets her bearing, she'll probably eat you alive."

* * *

 _February 17, 2012 – Manhattan, New York - Stark Tower_

"What do you mean _I'm moving_?"

Clint looked up at her bashfully as he sat down on the couch in their apartment. "I have to go on a mission and I don't want you cooped up here without me – "

"Like that would be such a bad thing."

"It is when you only ever talk to me or Nat! I'm not saying that I want you talkin' to everyone else, but I got a different place for you to stay in the meantime."

Darcy huffed and sat down on the couch next to him, her arms folded across her chest. Her teeth gnawed at the inside of her cheek. "So, you want me to leave the tower? What…what happens if…what will happen?"

He turned sideways and took one of her hands in both of his, rubbing it reassuringly. "I don't know what's gonna happen, Darce, and I'm not gonna lie to you. Going undercover for Fury can be dangerous, but I've done it before – what are you doing? Come back here!" He was on his feet and following her into her bedroom.

"If you go, I go, too." Her face was set as she stuffed clothes into her worn backpack. She would _not_ allow him to go alone. Going undercover would be easy; she'd done it enough in her life.

"Darcy, _stop_."

She could snag a pair of boots from the armory and get a Kevlar vest or two. There was a set of blades underneath her mattress that she'd taken from Clint's room and she was sure she could get a couple loaner pistols. The taser was still in her messenger bag and she'd have to charge it. Maybe she had time to get some practice in at the gym –

"Darcy!"

The brunette stopped. Her mind was going a mile a minute. The fabric of her backpack was clutched in her hand and she knew she must look a little crazy. Hell, crazy probably looked saner.

"You aren't going with me," he said firmly, taking the bag from her grasping hands and tossing it onto the bed. Clint cradled her face in his large hands and peered into her eyes. "You've gotta stay safe. I can't risk HYDRA getting you again, sweetheart. I'm – "

"You're my _kid_ ," she said with such conviction that his hands dropped from her face. "I'm not letting you go off on your own with some stupid mission that Fury thought up and pulled out of his ass."

"I'm not letting you go."

Darcy clenched her jaw. "You're not my keeper."

"No, I'm not," he agreed. He pulled her into his strong arms and tucked her head under his chin. "But you can't go. I got a little farm all set up for you in a tiny town in Iowa. When I get back, we'll take to Fury and get you cleared for duty. You can join the Avengers and kick my ass all day. But I need you to be safe first."

She melted into his chest and nodded. It was hard trying to reconcile the fierce protectiveness that the old Darcy felt and the powerful attraction she felt as the new Darcy. It was confusing to want to mother-hen Clint to death and then want to ride him like a horse. She looked upwards and nuzzled her nose against his jaw.

Clint's lips brushed against the top of her head and he sighed. "God, Darce. I don't wanna leave you behind. I want…I want to just take you and go live on that farm. I shouldn't've signed up for this without asking you – "

"You _did_ ask me and I said yes. I could've stayed in the apartment since I know you're still paying for it."

He rolled his eyes and pulled back from her just a little. "You know what I mean."

His eyes were green. Her favorite color. Stubble adorned his cheek and his brows pulled together as he watched her stare at him. A small wire wrapped around his left ear from the Stark-enhanced hearing aid that she knew was tucked behind it. Apparently, his hearing would return, but the blast he'd been right next to in Budapest was a little more potent than doctors had thought.

She fingered the wire delicately and gave him a small smile. "I'll go where you want me to, but I'm not going to be happy about it. I plan on being next to you next time. On the front lines, defending this stupid rock from whatever danger it attracts."

They were still practically chest to chest and she saw Clint swallow nervously when her fingernails bit into the soft skin of his hip where his shirt had ridden up.

"Sweetheart – "

"I'm sorry," she said, backing away from him. Her back hit the wall and she felt the breath whoosh from her lungs. Her hands itched to touch him, but her mind was yelling at her for being so stupid.

"No, Darce – "

"It's fine," she whispered. She plastered a smile on her face and slipped past him to grab the backpack on the bed. It would be big enough to carry all of her stuff. She still hadn't replaced her raggedy Converse. She pointedly avoided looking at him as she packed. She couldn't…she wouldn't let herself slip into an awkward space that would cost her Clint. "So, when do I leave?"

He cleared his throat. "Nat will take you there. Two hour flight and she'll make sure you get settled."

* * *

 _February 22, 1012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

Darcy didn't want to go. She liked the tower, but Clint had a point. She only really interacted with him and Natasha and, more rarely, Tony. A life at the tower wasn't really an option without her…family.

Her flight was scheduled to leave in a few hours and Natasha was waiting for her in the lobby, but she wasn't really ready to say goodbye.

"Sweetheart, you ready?"

She zipped up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder as she made her way into the living room. The sight of Clint in his tactical gear made her stomach flip uncomfortably. He had a bow slung across his back and he looked ready for anything.

It wasn't really planned the way she flung herself into his arms. His vest was hard against her cheek and tears pricked her eyes.

"Aw, Darcy, no."

She sniffled. "Please don't go."

"I don't have a choice. Nat'll – "

"Natalia isn't _you_."

He sighed and hugged her tighter. "I know, sweetheart, I know. But I'm gonna come back to you. I promise."

"You better, soldier."

* * *

 _February 28, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

"The lounge is empty, Captain."

Steve meandered into the room, looking at the empty carafe of coffee. It hadn't been full all week. He suspected that it hadn't even been used.

"JARVIS, is…Barton's girlfriend okay?"

"Mr. Barton's roommate has been relocated in his absence. I am unsure of when she will return."

The blond nodded to himself. Barton was assigned to monitor a surge of oddities that were happening across Germany, due to Fury's orders. He knew he'd have to step in if necessary, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

"She's…safe, right, JARVIS? Barton…"

"I shall inquire."

"What? No, wait – "

"She is fine," the AI responded after a beat. "Mr. Barton insisted that I have access to her location to monitor her needs."

Steve gave a small smile. "Good. Is it possible that you can let me know if she needs anything, too?"

"Of course, Captain."

* * *

 _May 1, 2012 – Iowa_

Darcy hung upside down by her knees on the rope she'd tied between the two of the tallest trees behind the small farmhouse Clint had stuck her in.

Natalia had left after just a day and Darcy was beginning to feel a little stir-crazy. She had JARVIS to talk to through the speakers in the house – which she'd learned yesterday when he asked her how she was. She figured it was Clint trying to reach her because he was on a blackout.

"Fuck," she muttered when she slipped and thudded against the ground on her hip. She groaned and rolled over, staring at the blue sky.

She thought that getting back to her roots as a performer might help her remember a bit more. But, as of right now, it was just a pain.

Limping back into the house, she grabbed an icepack out of the freezer and stuffed it in her boyshorts against her hip, hissing at the cold.

"Ms. Lewis, are you all right?"

She startled a bit at his voice, but righted herself. "Yeah, I'm okay, J-Man. Any word from Clint?"

"There has been no check in."

She sighed. Of course not.

* * *

 _May 2, 2012 – Unknown Location_

"I mean, if it's not too much trouble."

Agent Coulson had to be the most awkward man that Steve had ever met. But, apparently, he was very good at his job and acted as a liaison for Fury with the Avengers.

He knew it was only a matter of time before he was called in to help. Barton had gone off the grid shortly after he left, but he'd imagined it was because of the communication blackout, not being compromised.

The helicarrier he'd boarded was larger than anything he'd ever imagined. And the fact that it managed to fly was beyond him.

"No-no, it's fine."

"It's a vintage set," the other man said, holding up the collectible cards with a child-like smile on his face. "Took me a couple years to collect them all. Near mint, slight fading around the edges, but – "

"We got a hit. Sixty-seven percent match. Wait – cross-match – seventy-nine percent."

The man that was so concerned about his trading cards snapped into professional mode. "Location?"

"Stuttgart, Germany. He's not exactly hiding."

Fury looked up from the screen and jerked his chin towards the blond. "Captain, you're up."

* * *

"Kneel!"

Steve flitted through the crowd and had his shield plastered to his arm. A dark-haired man with a golden horned crown stood above all the others and he gritted his teeth. He knew that the quinjet was hovering nearby waiting for his signal with the Black Widow as the pilot.

"Kneel before me. I said KNEEL!" There was a pause before he spoke again. "Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for identity. You were made to be _ruled_. In the end, you will always kneel."

He bided his time, watching as an old man stood up and bit out, "Not to men like you."

"There are no men like me."

The God fired the scepter he was holding and Steve saw his opening.

He ran forward, jumping in front of the old man. The beam of light bounced off of his shield, hitting the other man square in the chest.

"You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing." Steve's voice was crisp and firm, making it known that he was not someone to mess with.

"The soldier," the God said as he rose to his feet. "The man out of time."

"I'm not the one who's out of time."

The quinjet fired behind him as the crowd ran, but Steve wasted no time slinging his shield towards the enemy. The com buzzed in his ear and he ducked as a jet of light barreled towards him.

" _Guy's all over the place. I'm guessing it's Barton_ ," the Widow's voice said through the com. " _And Stark's here_."

The red and gold suit flew through the air. A repulsor blast knocked the God off his feet once more and Tony's suit had about ten different guns and firearms pointed at him.

"Make a move, reindeer games."

Steve watched in fascination as the God's battle armor melted away and was replaced by a fitted black suit. He raised his hands in submission as Steve walked towards Tony.

"Mr. Stark."

"Captain."

* * *

"He's been compromised, _myshka_." There was a pause. "In the barn." Another pause. "I will come get you when necessary." A small smile. "Yes, _myshka_."

Steve watched as the Widow clicked off her earpiece. He assumed her… _myshka_ was Clint's girlfriend. Especially with how she went from unfeeling and cold to heartfelt and reassuring.

He shook his head and looked back at Loki, making sure he was strapped down appropriately. "I don't like it."

Tony glanced up from his watch, his eyebrow cocked to the side. "What? Rock of Ages giving up to easily?"

"I don't remember it being that easy," he shrugged. "This guy packs a wallop."

"Still, you were pretty spry for an older fellow," the brunet replied flippantly. "What's your thing? Pilates?"

"What?" He hoped he didn't have to add that to his book of things to look up.

Tony shrugged as he retrieved a bag of blueberries from seemingly nowhere. "It's like calisthenics. You might have missed a couple of things. Y'know, doing time as the Capsicle."

"Fury didn't tell me he was calling you in."

"Yeah, there's a lot of things that Fury doesn't tell you."

A flash of lightening and a clap of thunder caused Steve to make his way towards the narrow window and look out. Natasha perked up and asked, "Where's that coming from?"

Loki shuddered and leaned forward before looking around.

"What's the matter?" Steve asked, his brows furrowed, "Scared of a little lightening?"

"I'm not overly fond of what comes after."

* * *

 _May 2, 2012 – Iowa_

" _He's been compromised, Myshka_."

Darcy stared at the ceiling blankly. In a matter of seconds it felt like her whole world was coming down around her. How could Clint be compromised? He was too fast for that, too good. Shaking her head, she asked, "Where's my bag? The bag with the gear that I _know_ you hid for me."

" _In the barn_."

She nodded to herself and got off the couch.

" _I will come get you when necessary_."

"You promise?"

" _Yes, myshka_."

" _Ms. Romanoff has disconnected, Ms. Lewis_."

It didn't take long for her to find the bug out bag in the barn. It was filled with weapons and a catsuit and, thankfully, a pair of boots in her size. She'd stashed the blades in her backpack and she was thankful that she'd had the foresight to bring them.

When she was back in the house, she did inventory as she spoke with the AI.

"How fast can I have a plane at my disposal, J-Man?"

" _Ms. Potts is inquiring as to what you need a quinjet for, Ms. Lewis_."

Darcy wiggled into the skintight suit, happy that it hid the little pooch she'd acquired. The boots were next and she laced them up as tight as she could stand them. She huffed as she braided her hair back. "I would like to go back to the tower seeing as Clint is…indisposed."

JARVIS replied after a few moments. " _A quinjet will be arriving shortly_."

She had her blades strapped to her back and one in her boot while her pistols were holstered on her hips. She stuffed her yellow shoes and her sweater into her backpack with the rest of her clothes and locked up the house behind her.

* * *

"Jay, you're piloting this, right?"

" _Yes, Ms. Lewis. I will be piloting you to New York. Sir, Ms. Romanoff, and the Captain will not be arriving for an undeterminable amount of time. They will be spending time with SHIELD_."

Darcy strapped herself in behind the controls and willed her training to come forward. Something to help her get to New York in one piece and save Clint.

"Where's Clint, JARVIS?" She asked as the quinjet soundlessly launched into the air. "I mean, where was the last time you had a hit off his tracker?"

" _Ms. Lewis, I don't understand_."

Her hands smoothed over her thighs nervously. "The tracker in his hearing aid. Tony installed it as a failsafe."

" _I was unaware. One moment please_."

She took a moment to check the clock, noticing that the sun should be rising soon. The quinjet would make it to New York in under an hour. She knew she should be tired, but she was way too wired to sleep. Too worried thinking about what was happening with Clint. Where he was, if he was okay.

" _Mr. Barton is currently aboard the SHIELD helicarrier_ – "

Darcy jolted. "How fast can you get me there, Jay?"

" _I cannot deviate from the assigned path, Ms. Lewis_."

"And what can I do to override your programming?"

" _Sir has programmed me_ – "

"J-Man, I don't want to compromise our friendship, but I could hack you if I tried. Now, I _need_ to get to Clint. You can either drop me off or I can override you to get there. What's it gonna be?"

There was silence before the jet veered off path, causing a smile to tug at Darcy's lips.

" _I will ensure you make it to the SHIELD helicarrier. I trust in your abilities to not get yourself killed_."

"You're a peach, Jay."

* * *

"He really grows on you, doesn't he?" Banner asked, a self-deprecating smile on his lips as he scrubs his hand over his face. The small screen to his left shut off, causing the inhabitants of the makeshift lab to look around at each other.

Steve sighed. "Loki's gonna drag this out, even with Fury interrogating him. So, Thor, what's his play?"

The large Asgardian God tilted his head, his shoulder length blond hair sweeping to the side as he though about it. "He has an army called the Chitauri. They're not of Asgrad nor any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth, in return, I suspect for the Tesseract."

"An army from outer space?" Steve asked. This was definitely _not_ what he sighed up for.

Banner nodded in understanding. "So, he's building another portal. That's what he needs Erik Selvig for."

"Selvig?"

"He's an astrophysicist," Banner explained.

"He's a…friend."

Steve shook his head at Thor and sighed. "I wanna know why Loki let us take him. He's not leading an army from here."

Natasha looked up from the screen she was studying and sighed. "Loki has them under some kind of spell. He's got Selvig and one of ours – "

"I don't think we should be focusing on Loki," Banner thought out loud. His fist was clenching and unclenching in his pocket as sort of a distraction to himself. "That guy's brain is a bag full of cats; you can smell crazy on him."

Thor's hammer thudded against the table between them menacingly as he managed to bite out, "Have care with how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he is my brother."

"He killed eighty people in two days," the Widow quipped, dragging the death records up on her screen as the God squirmed.

"He's adopted?"

Steve tuned them all out after a while. Aliens and spaceships and it was all a lot to process. It hadn't even been a year since he woke up. Adjusting was going well, in his opinion, but there was still so much to cope with.

Some days he woke up in his bed at Stark Tower with tears in his eyes because he'd dreamt that he had his girl in his arms and his best guy next to her. He dreamt that it was still before the war, before she'd left, and it killed him. He'd wandered down to the market a few days ago, wondering if it was still the same and it was. No one had bought the property yet. The apartment was much of the same, too, despite the layer of dust that was on everything.

Bucky had used quite a bit of an advance from the bank to get it bought before he'd left for war so Steve wouldn't have to worry about paying rent while he was away. It still looked like how he'd left it when he went off to Camp Lehigh.

"Wait, you put a tracker in his hearing aid? Are you serious?"

Natasha's voice pulled him out his thoughts and he idly wondered when Tony had arrived. Judging by how the redhead was prowling around him, she was very unhappy. And when the Widow was unhappy, heads normally rolled.

"I forgot about it! If it wasn't for short stack, I wouldn't've remembered at all. It was her idea, y'know."

Steve put his hand on his hip and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You've had a tracker on Barton this whole time and you _forgot_?" He pinched his nose and let out a deep breath. Thank god that Barton's girlfriend paid attention. "Well, where is he?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Tony said as tapped his watch. A hologram erupted from it, showing the helicarrier and a few blinking dots. "So, those two are you and Romanoff. And that one way over there is Barton. Which…" he trailed off.

"Means he's here. Under Loki's control," Natasha finished, pulling a pistol out of the holster on her hip. "And it's possible that he's brought that army."

* * *

"J-Man, you got an extra com so I can keep in touch with you?"

" _There is an earpiece in the drawer next to the controls_."

Darcy retrieved it and fitted it over her ear, satisfied that it worked just fine.

" _Might I also recommend the mask. The air is quite thin with the high altitude – "_

"Thanks, Jay."

Her body was thrumming with anticipation and she wanted nothing more than to be back on the ground, safe in her little farmhouse. Preferably with Clint. There was no way that she'd be leaving here without him. Come hell or high water, she'd wrangle his stubborn ass back into her borrowed quinjet.

Scouring the jet caused her to come up with a grappling gun, a few widow bites, and now the mask. In her own opinion, she looked pretty kick ass with her catsuit and big boots and the half mask that allowed her to breath without dying. She was a little concerned because she didn't know how far she could push her body without breaking, but her journals indicated that she was a force to be reckoned with. She had to take her at her own word, she supposed.

Her eyes caught movement and suddenly a helicarrier was right in front of her. "Holy shit."

" _Would you like me to drop you off at the entrance or would you like to accost Mr. Barton while he attempts to take down the helicarrier_?"

Darcy spotted Clint shooting seemingly in the wrong direction before his arrow was blown back into one of the engines of the carrier.

"This is gonna suck," she mumbled mostly to herself before she shook her head. "Get me as close as you can and then hover nearby if possible. I don't want to fall to my death if I can avoid it."

" _Of course, Ms. Lewis. Good luck_."

When the back of the quinjet opened, Darcy took one breath to steal her nerves before literally diving out of the plane. The air whipped around her face and she was thankful for the little mask. She did a tuck and roll, landing on the edge of the helicarrier just as it exploded.

"JARVIS, what the fuck!"

" _Apologies, Ms. Lewis. Mr. Barton has detonated his arrow, causing the engine to malfunction_."

"For the love of Thor," she groaned, hanging by the edge as the engine sputtered. Her leg swung up and she managed to get herself safely onto the part of the engine that _wasn't_ on fire. "I've gotta have a death wish."

With a running leap, she jumped onto the center of the engine, her knees smacking against the unforgiving metal as she assessed the damage. Clint's arrow had completely blown it out, but if she could manually start it, it might keep the carrier in the sky. She wasn't sure how many engines this thing had, but she'd do her best.

"JARVIS, can you connect me to Tony?"

" _Yes, Ms. Lewis_."

Darcy grabbed a blade from her back and dug it into the metal of the wing, hoping it would keep her from being bucked off as it nosedived once again.

"Short stack, what're you doing here? Barton's gonna shoot me again," Tony whined as he sidled up next to her in his full Iron Man suit. "What do we got here…"

"Super conducting cooling system needs to get back online," Darcy said, pointing towards the center of the swirling vortex of death. "Then you can fly to the rotors and work on getting all the shit outta there that doesn't belong."

"Damn. Gonna keep you around, short stack." Tony flew to the other side and spoke into his com as he surveyed the damage. He used his repulsor to blast a piece of metal away from the rotors. "You plannin' on going inside? Clint's trying to get to Reindeer Games and - "

"On it."

* * *

"Who the hell is that?"

"Short stack, Capsicle. She's here for Barton."

Steve blinked out the gaping hole of the engine and focused on the slender form of a girl. She didn't seem too tall, but she was able to swing herself around on the wing like she was born to do it. He nearly had a heart attack when he watched her grab a stray wire and swing past him into the helicarrier.

"You sure she's not planning on killing him?"

"Not really my problem!"

* * *

The catwalk was rickety beneath her feet, but she knew she was light enough to move soundlessly. Clint was in front of her, walking stiffly with purpose.

"Clint – wait! Hold on!"

It took her by surprise when he turned around and shot an arrow at her. She narrowly avoided it by swinging herself off the catwalk and back on again, her foot collided with his chest and threw him against the railing when she found her feet once more.

"I'm not gonna hurt you! Stop it!"

His hand wrapped around her throat and held her up, the tips of her boots barely touching the ground.

"Clint! Please!" She gasped out. When he didn't let go, she pulled another blade from her back and slashed his arm. Her knees slammed against the harsh metal of the ground and she struggled to get breath in her lungs as his foot seemingly came out of nowhere and kicked her halfway across the catwalk. Doing a backwards summersault, she ended up back on her feet, dodging his hit as he tried to smack her with his bow. Her fingers wound around the string and pulled it back, grimacing when she heard it bounce off his face.

As soon as Clint staggered back, she grabbed his left arm and shoved his face against the railing, cringing when she heard a sickening smack.

He slipped to the ground and looked up at her, the blue tint still coloring his eyes. "Darcy?"

She hauled back and punched him hard. And again. And _again_.

It wasn't until he was slumped against the ground unconscious that she timidly asked, "JARVIS?"

" _Yes, Ms. Lewis_?"

She swallowed. "Can you connect me to Talia?"

" _Romanoff_."

Darcy sobbed at the sound of her voice. "Can you come get me and Clint? We're on a catwalk on…fuck the south side of the carrier? Ask JARVIS. He's got a quinjet waiting and I need to get out of here."

" _I'm on my way, myshka_."

* * *

 **Be sure to leave a review!**

 **~Grace**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 _May 3, 2012 – Brooklyn, New York_

"J-Man, you got an extra com so I can keep in touch with you?"

" _There is an earpiece in the drawer next to the controls_."

Darcy retrieved it and fitted it over her ear, satisfied that it worked just fine.

" _Might I also recommend the mask. The air is quite thin with the high altitude – "_

"Thanks, Jay."

Her body was thrumming with anticipation and she wanted nothing more than to be back on the ground, safe in her little farmhouse. Preferably with Clint. There was no way that she'd be leaving here without him. Come hell or high water, she'd wrangle his stubborn ass back into her borrowed quinjet.

Scouring the jet caused her to come up with a grappling gun, a few widow bites, and now the mask. In her own opinion, she looked pretty kick ass with her catsuit and big boots and the half mask that allowed her to breath without dying. She was a little concerned because she didn't know how far she could push her body without breaking, but her journals indicated that she was a force to be reckoned with. She had to take her at her own word, she supposed.

Her eyes caught movement and suddenly a helicarrier was right in front of her. "Holy shit."

" _Would you like me to drop you off at the entrance or would you like to accost Mr. Barton while he attempts to take down the helicarrier_?"

Darcy spotted Clint shooting seemingly in the wrong direction before his arrow was blown back into one of the engines of the carrier.

"This is gonna suck," she mumbled mostly to herself before she shook her head. "Get me as close as you can and then hover nearby if possible. I don't want to fall to my death if I can avoid it."

" _Of course, Ms. Lewis. Good luck_."

When the back of the quinjet opened, Darcy took one breath to steal her nerves before literally diving out of the plane. The air whipped around her face and she was thankful for the little mask. She did a tuck and roll, landing on the edge of the helicarrier just as it exploded.

"JARVIS, what the fuck!"

" _Apologies, Ms. Lewis. Mr. Barton has detonated his arrow, causing the engine to malfunction_."

"For the love of Thor," she groaned, hanging by the edge as the engine sputtered. Her leg swung up and she managed to get herself safely onto the part of the engine that _wasn't_ on fire. "I've gotta have a death wish."

With a running leap, she jumped onto the center of the engine, her knees smacking against the unforgiving metal as she assessed the damage. Clint's arrow had completely blown it out, but if she could manually start it, it might keep the carrier in the sky. She wasn't sure how many engines this thing had, but she'd do her best.

"JARVIS, can you connect me to Tony?"

" _Yes, Ms. Lewis_."

Darcy grabbed a blade from her back and dug it into the metal of the wing, hoping it would keep her from being bucked off as it nosedived once again.

"Short stack, what're you doing here? Barton's gonna shoot me again," Tony whined as he sidled up next to her in his full Iron Man suit. "What do we got here…"

"Super conducting cooling system needs to get back online," Darcy said, pointing towards the center of the swirling vortex of death. "Then you can fly to the rotors and work on getting all the shit outta there that doesn't belong."

"Damn. Gonna keep you around, short stack." Tony flew to the other side and spoke into his com as he surveyed the damage. He used his repulsor to blast a piece of metal away from the rotors. "You plannin' on going inside? Clint's trying to get to Reindeer Games and - "

"On it."

* * *

"Who the hell is that?"

"Short stack, Capsicle. She's here for Barton."

Steve blinked out the gaping hole of the engine and focused on the slender form of a girl. She didn't seem too tall, but she was able to swing herself around on the wing like she was born to do it. He nearly had a heart attack when he watched her grab a stray wire and swing past him into the helicarrier.

"You sure she's not planning on killing him?"

"Not really my problem!"

* * *

The catwalk was rickety beneath her feet, but she knew she was light enough to move soundlessly. Clint was in front of her, walking stiffly with purpose.

"Clint – wait! Hold on!"

It took her by surprise when he turned around and shot an arrow at her. She narrowly avoided it by swinging herself off the catwalk and back on again, her foot collided with his chest and threw him against the railing when she found her feet once more.

"I'm not gonna hurt you! Stop it!"

His hand wrapped around her throat and held her up, the tips of her boots barely touching the ground.

"Clint! Please!" She gasped out. When he didn't let go, she pulled another blade from her back and slashed his arm. Her knees slammed against the harsh metal of the ground and she struggled to get breath in her lungs as his foot seemingly came out of nowhere and kicked her halfway across the catwalk. Doing a backwards summersault, she ended up back on her feet, dodging his hit as he tried to smack her with his bow. Her fingers wound around the string and pulled it back, grimacing when she heard it bounce off his face.

As soon as Clint staggered back, she grabbed his left arm and shoved his face against the railing, cringing when she heard a sickening smack.

He slipped to the ground and looked up at her, the blue tint still coloring his eyes. "Darcy?"

She hauled back and punched him hard. And again. And _again_.

It wasn't until he was slumped against the ground unconscious that she timidly asked, "JARVIS?"

" _Yes, Ms. Lewis_?"

She swallowed. "Can you connect me to Talia?"

" _Romanoff_."

Darcy sobbed at the sound of her voice. "Can you come get me and Clint? We're on a catwalk on…fuck the south side of the carrier? Ask JARVIS. He's got a quinjet waiting and I need to get out of here."

" _I'm on my way, myshka_."

* * *

Natasha had wanted to go back to Stark Tower, but Darcy had deemed that to be out of the question as soon as JARVIS had informed them that the Avengers would be there shortly. Clint needed some time just work through what had happened to him.

They'd carried him in and made him comfortable on the couch. The women were waiting on pins and needles, hoping he'd wake up soon. Darcy had switched her com off, but Natasha had kept hers on, communicating with Tony occasionally.

"What the hell," Clint slurred, struggling to get up.

"Stand down, soldier," the brunette warned as she sat on the coffee table and took his hand. "You're gonna be fine."

His green eyes were normal, no hint of blue to be seen. However, his agitation was palpable as he squeezed the living hell out of her hand and tried to get up once more. "You know that? Is that what you know? That I'm gonna be _all right_?" He pulled away from her. "I gotta go in, though. I gotta flush him out."

Natasha set her hand on his leg and shook her head. "You have to level out. It's going to take some time."

"You don't understand! Have you ever had someone take your brain and play with it? Pull you out and stuff something else in? You know what it's like to be unmade?"

The redhead glanced at Darcy and gave a curt nod. "You know that I do. We _both_ do."

He sighed, losing the steam that had accumulated. He sat back down against the pillows and gave them a lazy look. "Why am I back? How'd you get him out?"

"Cognitive recalibration."

"I hit you really hard in the head."

They both spoke at the same time.

"Thanks," he said, looking between them and rubbing his head thoughtfully. "Loki get away?"

Natasha nodded. "Yeah. Don't suppose you know where?"

"Didn't need to know," he shrugged, reaching for Darcy's hand and kissing the back of it. "He's gonna make his play soon though. Today." His green eyes gave her a stern look. "Don't think that we're not gonna talk about this. I see that Kevlar."

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "We'll talk about it after New York is safe and sound."

"C'mon, sweetheart. Let's go kick some ass."

* * *

"JARVIS is going to drop Darce off at the tower, Nat you need to go figure out what's going on in the streets, and I'm going to find Cap and put some arrows in these sons of bitches."

Darcy tightened her laces and reloaded her pistol. "Erik's on the roof of the tower, right?"

Clint shifted, looking over his shoulder in the quinjet. "Don't you even think about going up there. I'll tie you down in the damned apartment – "

"Kinky."

"Darcy!"

"I'm not going to sit this out! I saved your ass on the helicarrier and I'm gonna fight for what's right now. Talia – "

"She can handle herself, Clint," Natasha interjected, strapping a blade to her thigh. "Tony will be close and Bruce can control the bulk of it. She's friends with Selvig; it might be a good thing." She peered out the small window and tapped a button, letting the back of the jet open up. "Come on, Barton. We've got to get this under control."

Clint rolled his eyes and unstrapped himself. "JARVIS, drop Darcy off on the roof."

In a matter of seconds both Avengers dropped down into the fray as the quinjet soared upwards. She strapped the mask back on her face just in case. As soon as they reached the top of the tower, she sighed and jumped out, landing gracefully on the balcony.

"You're not what I expected."

Darcy whirled around and was met with the sight of a tall man in a green and gold outfit, a ridiculous golden horned helmet on top of his dark-haired head. He was lean and ridiculously fit. And definitely not what _she_ expected.

"Likewise, horned serpent."

He cocked his head at her, a scepter materializing in his hand. "You are not the man of iron. Nor are you the soldier…not the archer or the arachnid." His lips quirked up in a smirk. "You're a child…are you not?"

"I'm older than you think," she answered. "You're Loki."

"God of Mischief, at your service, m'lady," he said, bowing with a flourish. "I truly hope they didn't send you here alone to stop me. It would be devastating to destroy something so beautiful."

She scoffed behind her mask. "Dude, go back to wherever you're from. Earth is at its capacity for visitors."

Loki raised his scepter and placed it against her chest. "You'll be useful to me."

"Get away from her!"

A red, white, and blue shield swung past her face and knocked the scepter out of Loki's hand, causing the God to turn and snarl at the newcomer. "The _soldier_. Can never mind your own business, can you?"

"Civilians are my business."

"Ah, but she's not a civilian, is she?"

Darcy ignored the man behind her and lunged at the other, knocking him onto his back. She straddled his waist and kicked her boot up, pulling the blade hidden there. A moment longer and it was buried in his side, causing him to throw her off of him and off the balcony all together.

She screamed for only a second before she pulled the grappling gun from her belt and shot it towards the tower, praying it latched onto something. A sharp tug had her hanging onto the gun for dear life as she swung through one of the windows and broke the glass.

" _Motherfuck_ ," she growled, prying a piece of glass out of her thigh. It wasn't that deep, but it was bleeding like hell. She ripped off her boot and took off her long sock, tearing it down the middle and wrapping it around her thigh.

The com buzzed in her ear and Clint's frantic voice assaulted her.

" _Where the hell are you? I saw you get thrown off the fucking building like a ragdoll. Cap's up there by himself. Stay where you are –_ "

"I'm making my way down to the ground floor. Send Tony up to deal with Loki," she hauled herself to her feet and shook out her limbs. She was about ten stories up from the street and she sighed. "I'll be there in five."

" _Darcy_ – "

She switched off the com and jumped out the window. She had a city to save.

* * *

Steve watched as the girl careened off the balcony. He screamed out for her, but she was already gone. Running to the railing, he watched as she whipped herself through a window below and breathed a sigh of relief.

"How touching."

The blond picked up his shield from where it had bounced of the ground and struck blindly at the God. His fist connected with the other man's jaw and sent him reeling just as Tony soared onto the balcony.

* * *

"Cap, get to short stack. She's running around in the streets, but JARVIS told me she's hurt. Sliced up her leg somehow. Get down there and get her to medical."

Steve wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, grimacing at red stain on his suit. "I'll get to her. Tony…don't follow Loki. Nothing good can come from it."

Tony put his mask down and gave Steve a curt nod before flying away to chase the God of Mischief.

He took inventory of his pain, noticing that his ribs were just a bit sore, but all in all he was fine.

" _Cap! You gotta help me. I'm near the bank on –_ "

"JARVIS will get me there, Barton. What's going on?" Steve leapt down a couple of stories, landing on one of the Chitauri's bikes and shoving the alien off. It wasn't that much different than landing the Valkyrie – down meant down in All-Speak.

" _There was a bomb_ ," his voice was shaky and there was so much noise in the background. " _I can't get her out. She got the civilians out, but_ – "

The blond swallowed hard when he heard the other man's voice break. He pushed the flying machine harder, jumping off of it when he reached the crumbled remains of the bank. The whole front of it was collapsed in on itself with civilians literally running for their lives down the street.

A second bomb went off and Steve threw up his shield to protect himself from the debris. He'd have to climb on top of it to get inside.

"I'm on my way, Barton."

There was a choked sob as a reply and a muttered, " _Hurry_."

Using his shield, he dug out enough rubble to reveal an opening. He dropped down inside it and surveyed the scene, his eyes finding the archer trying to lift what looked like a piece of the roof that had fallen.

"Barton, move."

"I can't," he rasped out, his jaw clenched in exertion. "If I let it down, it'll kill her."

Steve gave him a curt nod and strode over to help him. His hand gripped the stone slab and he hauled, only briefly surprised when it shifted almost completely. He watched as Clint grabbed his girlfriend, panic written across his face.

The girl had some sort of mask along the lower half of her face and her dark hair was untied from how it had been earlier. She looked so…small. Black smudges covered her eyes and he dropped the stone as soon as she was clear.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Open those baby blues for me," Clint coaxed, checking for her pulse. His face lost even more color as he waited, suddenly ripping her mask away and sealing his mouth over hers.

Steve turned away. His cheeks were tinted with embarrassment. It was too intimate to watch –

"She's not fucking breathing!"

His head whipped back around and he collapsed to his knees next to her. His hand went to her ribs and he winced. "Something's broken, Barton. Maybe even punctured. She's gotta get to medical – "

"That won't be helpful if she's not breathing!" Clint growled as he started compressions. He glared up at Steve and demanded, "At least hold her head. I don't know if she broke anything else. She fell really hard."

It was impressive that the archer managed to get that out between mouth to mouth and compressions, but he'd never been one to slow down.

The blond awkwardly shuffled towards her head and straightened in out, glancing down at her face when it wasn't obscured by Clint's. She looked familiar. Her lips were full and her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks. Brown hair wrapped around his fingers and he stilled.

 _He felt her lips at the base of his throat and tangled his fingers in the wild curls of her hair to hold her closer._

"Nat, I need airlift to the – _yes_." Clint let out a breath of relief as the girl's chest rose.

Steve shook his head to clear his thoughts of his girl and turned around, speaking into the com while the archer fussed over his girlfriend. "Have medical on standby at the tower."

" _What happened to my myshka, Steve_?"

"A building fell on her."

There was mild cursing on the other end of the com – mild for the Russian's normal temperament, anyway – and he watched Clint scoop his girlfriend into his arms.

"I'm gonna need your help to get outta here, Steve," he said, shifting her mostly to one side and strapping his bow to his back with his free arm.

"You shouldn't be moving her – "

"Her ribs are healed," he said sharply, "'m more worried about all the shit she breathed in and if her bones are settin' right."

* * *

 _May 5, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower – Medical Wing_

"She needs a blood transfusion."

Clint gritted his teeth and shook his head. "I'm not a match. She's O Negative…"

Natasha perked up from her chair on the other side of Darcy's bed. "The serum isn't regenerating it?"

The doctor looked over his clipboard and shook his head. "The injury in her leg actually cut an artery. It's a miracle that she was able to clear out that building before it came down on top of her. The serum, while different that what you've received, Ms. Romanoff, is working overtime with trying to repair the fractures and breaks that she endured. I'm afraid a blood transfusion is absolutely necessary at this point."

Clint stared down at his hands, itching for his bow so he could shoot an arrow through the ass that the God of Thunder called his brother. Loki had been taken to Asgard while New York tried to repair itself – mainly with the funding of Tony Stark.

"Wait, there's someone on the team with her blood type," he said, recalling seeing it when he'd flicked through files.

Natasha's eyes met his and she was out of the room before the doctor could get a word in edgewise.

* * *

Steve did his best to be involved with the rebuilding of New York – particularly Manhattan. He didn't want to be stuffed in the tower while Barton clambered over every flat surface to thank him and then hole himself up in the medical ward.

His dreams had been haunting him. Barton's girlfriend had pulled something to the surface that he'd buried deep down inside about missing his girl. The way that the archer had held his girlfriend in his arms, the emotion in his voice when he was trying to rescue her, the way he hoisted her into his arms despite being worse for wear and _carried_ her to safety.

Barton reminded him of Bucky sometimes, stubborn and proud. Ignoring authority if he thought he knew better.

God, he missed Darcy. He missed her little hands against his back, the way she fitted beneath his chin so perfectly even when he was still small. She knew everything there was to know about Steve Rogers. Sometimes, he wondered how she would feel about him being Captain America. Sure, she was outspoken and loud for a girl in the '30s, but how would that have rolled over to today's society?

It was weird.

He had been present when Natasha had threatened Tony with destroying no less than five suits if he didn't willingly donate his blood to her _myshka_.

Between _myshka_ , short stack, and sweetheart, Steve was beginning to wonder if he'd ever find out her name. Not that they'd ever talked. And the one time he'd seen her face it had been covered with dirt and bruises and mostly Clint's face.

He shook his head and headed up to the gym. He had some energy to burn off.

* * *

 _May 6, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower – Medical Wing_

Clint flat out refused to leave the hospital room that Darcy had called home for the past two days. He didn't want to miss it when she opened her eyes or if something worse were to happen.

The bruises that had covered her face were now more of a mottled yellow and green – still ugly, but not near as bad as when he found her.

Getting Tony to agree to a blood transfusion had been difficult at first, but Natasha had threatened him a hundred ways to Sunday when he finally relented with mumblings of blackmail.

"If you tell me it's been five years since I last woke up, I'll punch you in the face as soon as I get the strength to lift my arms."

Green eyes found blue and he was wrapping his arms around her before he could think better of it. "Fuck, sweetheart. What'd I tell you 'bout running into buildings – "

"Not to. But only if they're on fire," she rasped out, her fingers digging under his shirt in an attempt to ground herself. Frankly, she was tired of waking up in hospital rooms. The sterile scent and scratchy sheets – but these sheets _weren't_ scratchy. "Where am I?"

Clint pressed his lips right below her ear and she melted in relief. "Stark Tower, medical." He pulled away and brushed her cheek softly. "A fucking building collapsed on you, sweetheart. If it wasn't for Cap, I don't think you'd be sitting here right now."

"Laying," she pointed out, making grabby hands at him so he could help her sit up. Which he did without complaint. A glance down at her arm made her wince. "What the hell happened?"

After making sure she was situated, he followed her line of sight and sighed. "You were dehydrated and needed a blood transfusion. It'll heal in a couple days. Your face already looks better – "

" _Myshka_."

It didn't take long for Natasha to worm her way into Darcy's bed, wrapping around her like ivy as they flipped on the television that JARVIS had alerted them was in the room. The redhead caught her up on the outcome of the battle – Clint's ' _we won, duh'_ – and that Tony had been the unlucky person to donate blood to her.

"He complained, but he did it," Natasha said, producing a band-aide out of seemingly nowhere and stuck it in the crook of her elbow to cover up the worst of the bruises.

"Because he thought you were gonna trash his suits," the archer mumbled.

She shrugged, "It's wasn't an empty threat."

Darcy smiled at their banter and snuggled deeper against Natasha's side. She was getting tired and Clint picked up on it immediately, asking JARVIS to lower the lights in the room.

" _Yes, Mr. Barton. When you're finished visiting, Sir would like to see you in his workshop._ "

Clint nodded sharply and got up, pressing a kiss to the corner of Darcy's lips before he looked over at Natasha. "Keep her safe while I'm gone."

* * *

"How do you know short stack?" Tony asked as soon as the door to the lab sealed behind him.

Clint looked up from his watch and scratched his head. "Uh, old friend?"

"She's eighteen."

"Her father's an old friend?"

"She's an orphan," Tony deadpanned, tossing his screwdriver down on the metal table and grabbing a towel to wipe the grease from his hands. "I don't really care about specifics, Barton, but the black market blood exchange brought up a few questions."

The archer took a seat at the cluttered metal table wearily watching the mad scientist that was still puttering around the room. "What's your question, Tony?"

The dark-haired man looked up from his computer distractedly. "Do you know how many people have my blood type?" Obviously it was rhetorical because as soon as Clint opened his mouth, he snapped it shut again because Tony kept going. "One in fifteen. _One_ in _fifteen_! So, that's not super rare, I know, but it's rare enough that two people in New York – the most highly populated city, mind you – found each other when there's a fucking blood shortage is just all sorts of tuna, man."

Clint was about ready to smack his head against the table, but he refrained in hopes that Tony would get to his point eventually. "Tony – "

"The lab ran our blood together. We're related, Legolas."

He stopped, his green eyes wide as he shook his head. "No, Tony. It's not possible – "

"I was young and stupid! I probably spawned her and spurned her mother. Think of the snark, Barton! It's a wonder I didn't see it before. She's got my color hair, too. Not my eyes, but – "

"She's not your daughter, Tony," Clint bit out, throwing the abandoned screwdriver at Tony's head, only slightly saddened when the latter caught it before it could connect. "I'm positive."

"Why? Is she yours?" He asked as he slipped the screwdriver in his pocket to avoid injury.

Clint just shook his head as he stood up. "Just…run it again, Tony. I'm positive she's not your daughter. I'm headin' back up if that's all you wanted me for."

* * *

 _May 8, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

The cut on her thigh had disappeared into nothing but a slight scar that she knew would disappear, too, if she gave it enough time. It had taken pleading with the hospital staff to be released into Clint's care, but she figured that her puppy dog eyes finally did it when they granted her the mercy of release papers.

"It looks better," Clint said, brushing his thumb along the faded mark, causing her to shiver. He stood behind where she was perched on a barstool in the kitchen.

Sometimes, she really hated when he touched her. It was hard to control herself from leaping on him. She mused that it was because she had memories of him being a child, but no longer had the firsthand knowledge of taking care of him.

Her hand captured his and held it against her leg, not wanting to part with him quite yet. She remembered how he'd tried to sleep with her so many years ago and it hurt her heart to know that she wanted him now, but it was unreciprocated.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, his thumb digging into the expanse of her ivory thigh as a ragged breath slipped between his lips. It tousled the hair on her neck and she leaned back against him, more than surprised when his other arm wound its way around her cinched waist. "You know I'm not strong enough for this, right?"

Her plush lips pressed a soft kiss under his jaw, right beneath his chin. "You don't have to be strong."

Clint ducked his head and sucked a punishing kiss along the column of her throat, laving as his teeth bit into her soft skin. With a final squeeze to her thigh, he pulled away and gave her a strained smile. "I'm not strong enough to give you what you need without needing more. I've had you in my heart since I was sixteen years old and I've wanted you in my bed for nearly as long. I can't…I can't be a one time thing, Darce. I love you too much for that."

* * *

 _May 12, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

It was late when Steve wandered into the lounge. It was well after midnight and the only light in the room was the light by the coffee maker in the kitchen. Blue eyes scanned the room and he noticed a petite brunette curled in on herself on the couch. Her hair obscured her face and he could see her hands, peeking out from beneath her long sleeved shirt, clench and unclench.

It took him a moment to pry his eyes away from her and start a pot of coffee brewing. It would be appreciated later, he was sure.

A breathy sound caught his attention and he looked over to where Barton's girlfriend was whimpering. He had experience with nightmares, he got them occasionally, but he was torn between comforting her and calling Barton to come do it himself. It wasn't like leaving her was an option, besides, well, it _was_ , but he was never one to run.

" _James_."

He froze when he was only a few steps away from her, glad that he'd left the mug on the counter because he was sure he wouldn't dropped it. Swallowing noisily, he reached out and shook her shoulder. "Uh, ma'am? Are you all right?"

She jerked awake and Steve was surprised to suddenly have his back up against the couch and a lap-full of feisty brunette. Her forearm pressed into his windpipe uncomfortably and he managed a slight cough.

"You're safe. You want me to call Barton?"

"James," she whispered so low he barely caught it.

Steve couldn't see her face, the light from the kitchen illuminated her form, leaving her face a mess of shadows even with his enhanced vision. His heart twisted at the name, but his hand found her waist as he softly said, "No, I'm – "

He never got a chance to finish because her lips crashed against his, effectively silencing any protests that tried to make themselves known. As soon as the surprise wore off he was kissing her back like his life depended on it. Her lips were so plush against his and his fingers dug into her hips, pressing her down on the arousal that was begging to be freed.

It was wrong, so wrong, but Steve Rogers had always been one to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.

He could see the glint of her teeth biting into her plump bottom lip and he was so sidetracked that he didn't notice that she wasn't wearing panties. And that she'd managed to maneuver his cock out of his jogging pants.

"Hey, hold on – _holy shit_."

She was as tight as a glove around him and he had to grit his teeth. He hadn't been with anyone since '36 and even then it had been just Darcy. Sweet, beautiful, soft Darcy…

A soft cry was torn from her throat and it took him a moment to realize that he'd been thrusting pretty hard from beneath her. His feet were anchored against the floor and he could feel her fingernails biting into his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he said huskily, his hand moving from her waist and rucking her sleep shirt up so he could press his thumb against her swollen little clit. He remembered how Darcy liked it…

She snapped her mouth shut with an audible _clack_ to keep her noises to herself and it wasn't long before her clenching cunt pulled his own orgasm from him as well.

Barton's girlfriend slumped against him, her breath ghosting across his collarbone. Hands made their way under her shirt and rubbed her spine delicately.

"You're incredible, doll," he managed to get out as he caught his breath and obviously it was the wrong thing to say.

She leapt off of him like he'd burnt her and pulled her sleep shirt down before she flitted from the room like she'd never been there at all.

The sweet slick around his cock and her panties on the ground were the only thing to let Steve know it hadn't been a dream.

* * *

Darcy awoke from the most pleasant dream. A dream she wished to relive a million times over. Hands all over her, something hard deep inside her, lips pressed against hers in such a familiar way that it made her heart ache.

She'd woken up without her normal panties, which was odd within itself, but she also woke up to something smeared down her thighs and that made her a little fidgety. There was no way that Clint would do anything like that when she wasn't awake and it definitely wasn't just from _her_.

"Jay, has anyone been in my room since last night?"

" _No, Ms. Lewis. You've been the only occupant._ "

"Huh," she mused quietly. "Where's Clint?"

" _Mr. Barton is entering the gym. He's been on the range for the past few hours. Shall I alert him that you'll be joining him_?"

"Nah, it's okay, J-Man. Thanks."

" _My pleasure, Ms. Lewis._ "

Maybe she'd go find Talia.

* * *

 _Smack. Smack. Smack!_

Steve watched as another bag met its untimely end and shook his head. Three hours of destroying boxing bags hadn't left him in any better of a mood and he knew he was fucked until he came clean to Barton.

Sleeping with his girlfriend wasn't something that he'd ever planned. Hell, he didn't even know what her name was, let alone what she looked like! She was petite, had a nice bust from what Tony had said, and dark curls that he wanted to tangle his fingers in. Again.

How could he tell Barton? It wasn't something that came up in everyday conversation. Or what if she told him first? He could take Barton, but Natasha on the other hand…he didn't look forward to the legendary Widow finding out that he'd slept with her _myshka_. Even though said _myshka_ did the initiating. _All_ the initiating.

Part of him felt like scum. And not because he slept with a girl that had a partner, but because it felt like he cheated on Darcy. Technically, they never broke up, so that meant he was still with her, right? Even though she was long gone. He hadn't truly had a chance to mourn their relationship as he had her. Her _and_ Bucky. He couldn't think of one without the other. That was his family.

"What'd that bag ever do to you?"

Steve's head jerked up at the sound of the voice, noticing Barton grabbing a few weights and looking him over. He didn't look angry.

"Maybe you should talk Tony into inventing one that can withstand super soldiers."

He nodded and gave a laugh. "That'd probably be a swell idea."

They worked in silence for a while, only serving to key Steve up more than he already was. He was no good at lying. Skirting the truth, maybe. But lying was difficult.

"So, you and Dee have a chance to talk yet?"

Steve faltered, missing the landing of the punch against the bag and letting it swing back and hit him in the face. "W-what?" He assumed that Dee was Barton's girlfriend and it got more awkward than he'd envisioned.

"Y'know, about you saving her?"

"Oh." He swallowed and shook his head, rubbing his knuckles absently. "Haven't seen her."

Barton eyed him suspiciously. "JARVIS told me she was in the lounge with you last night. Did normal rounds in the apartment and her bedroom was empty, so I asked." He shrugged, setting a weight down.

"She was sleeping on the couch," the captain offered, "I just made some coffee and left."

"Oh. Yeah, she falls asleep in strange places. Sleep walks, too."

Steve thought that was the end of the conversation until the double doors to the gym slammed open and an angry redhead was marching right up to him, pistol in hand. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he took a few steps back and held his hands up in surrender.

"What. Did. You. _Do_?"

Barton looked between them, dropping the weight with a dull thud as he leapt up. "Nat, what's goin' on?"

"Get out, Clint," she bit out. "That's an order."

The archer scoffed. "It's a good thing you're not my boss then – wait! Don't aim that at me!"

"Now!"

It was almost comical the way Barton scurried out. He probably would've laughed if there wasn't a gun aimed at his chest by a former Russian spy.

"JARVIS, engage privacy protocols. Widow 9-9-2-3."

" _Privacy protocols engaged, Ms. Romanoff_."

There was a beat before Natasha holstered her gun and smacked him upside the head so hard he was sure his eyes were doing that spinning thing like the cartoons did.

"What were you thinking?" She hissed, resisting the urge to kick him.

"What are you even talking about? I've been here all morning – "

She growled and picked up the weight Barton had dropped before chucking it at his head. "You _defiled_ my _myshka_!"

"Is that what she's saying?" He managed to get out as he sidestepped the workout aid. Trying to come up with a good excuse was hard when a woman was throwing things at you.

"She doesn't remember! But, luckily, there's an AI that remembers everything, Steve. _Everything_."

He groaned. "It was consensual. I was going to tell Barton – "

"They are _not_ dating, Steve. I don't know how many times I have to tell you."

"Well, if JARVIS told you about what happened, you should know that she left _me_ in the lounge. Not the other way around!" He had to add that. It was no fair that she thought that he slept with her and ran. No, she ran out on him after rocking his world. Lord, he needed to step away from the internet.

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed haughtily. "It doesn't excuse the fact that you don't even know her name."

"Her name's Dee," he replied, slightly proud of himself.

The redhead cocked her head, a livid expression lighting up her face. "Who the hell is Dee? Her name is Dar – "

"DARCY, GET BACK HERE!"

The privacy protocol meant nothing when Natasha had allowed her _myshka_ to override any number of them. And where her _myshka_ went, Barton was sure to follow, seemingly yelling and running.

"Talia! Don't kill him! I'm pretty sure killing a national icon will get you in prison."

Her voice…

"I mean, killing anyone would get you in prison, but, like, killing Captain America would be like prison without parole ever."

Steve looked over Natasha's head and spotted the brunette spitfire in all her glory with Barton trying to move between her and Natasha. She was wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts that seemed to disappear underneath the shirt's hemline, leaving her legs bare. Her curls were piled on top of her head in the most familiar way, but it was her face that nearly had him crumpling against the dirty gym floor.

It was her voice. It was her body. Her lips, her waist, her hips. The way her hand was on her hip as she tried to dress down the _Black fucking Widow_.

It was her. His Darcy. His _girl_.

"Darcy…" he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. He wanted to reach out and touch her, convince himself that she was real, but Barton and Natasha stood in front of her defensively. As if he would _hurt her_.

"Now _that_ is her name, Steve."

He could see it on her face the moment she heard his voice. Her head whipped up from the redhead and focused on him behind her.

"Steve?"

"Oh, _honey_."

He wasn't sure how she found the strength to move both of her body guards out of the way, but it was a mere matter of seconds before she had her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered against her hair, feeling her nose snug against his neck. He'd never been strong enough to hold her like this. Like Bucky had.

"I'm right here," she said wetly, only clinging tighter. "I'm right here."

"Darcy – "

"So help me Clint, if you come anywhere near me right now, I will gut you like a fish," she all but growled. The slight waver in her voice took a bit of the bite out, but Clint liked his organs exactly where they were, thank you very much.

Steve opened his eyes and could barely see through the curtain her stray curls were causing, but it was enough to see Natasha giving him a look that didn't bode very well for anything south of his waist.

"Will you spot me if I try to pry her off of him with a crowbar?" Barton stage whispered, his eyes wide.

The redhead shook her head. "This is her Stevie."

There was a beat of silence before a hushed, "Stevie? Like _Stevie that took her virginity_?"

Darcy whipped her head around and sniffled. "Stop climbing in the fucking vents and gossiping like an old woman!"

The blond was just more than happy to have her back in his arms. He didn't care that it was seventy years later. He didn't care that she seemed to have a weird relationship with the archer and the Widow. All he cared about what somehow, some _way_ she was still alive and they'd made their way back to one another.

"You…you're different," she whispered against the line of his jaw when she turned back around. Blue orbs observed him unflinchingly, taking in every new detail. Granted, her mind was muddled most of the time, but she remembered Steve being…smaller. Less than he was now.

He smiled and shook his head. "Can I…can I take you back to my place?"

"Hold it, Rogers – ow! What the hell, Nat!"

Darcy stifled a giggle and nodded as she wiped the tears from under her eyes. "That'd be great, Stevie."

* * *

 **Be sure to leave a review!**

 **~Grace**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 _May 12, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

Strong cheekbones. Straight nose. Full lips. Blue eyes.

It was Steve, but it _wasn't_.

"I met a doctor named Erskine in '43," he explained as he sat plastered to her side on his couch. It hadn't taken long for them to get to his apartment that Tony had set up for him. Between Darcy wrapping herself around him and him trying not to push her up against the glass of the elevator, anyway. "He developed this serum that he injected me with. And before I knew it, this happened," he finished, gesturing to his body.

There was a migraine beginning to bloom behind her eyes. Her brain was trying to fit together all the missing pieces, but it was exhausting. She'd dreamt about him. About Bucky so often that it felt like it was just another dream. If it was, she never wanted to wake up.

"I shouldn't be here," she whispered, wringing her hands listlessly as she pulled away from him. It was a fact that rang true.

Steve instantly protested. "You have as much of a right to be here as I do – "

"That's…not what I meant." She sighed, focusing on the ground between her sock-clad feet. "I should be dead. So should you! It's almost a hundred years later and I'm still _here_. Why? What's the point?"

"I'd be alone without you," he said softly. His face was insecure, reminding Darcy of the small boy from Brooklyn. "I know I'm not how you remember me, but you look just like you did when we said goodbye at the airport. I…I don't know what happened to you, honey, but I'll tell you anything about me that you wanna know."

"You were…Captain America?"

"I _am_ ," he answered surely. "But I'll step down, go anywhere with you – "

"No…I-I want to do what you want. My mind is all jumbled most of the time." Darcy gave him a sad gapped-tooth smile as she tapped her finger against her temple. "They messed me all up in here. Talia's been helping me, Clint, too. There're just parts of my memory that are gone, like _poof_." She made an explosion with her hands before she finally turned to look at him. "I'm not the same Darcy you remember. I…I know she's still in there somewhere, but it's a matter of _finding_ her."

Steve sighed, detesting the distance between them. To have her here after so long was so surreal that he didn't hesitate to put his hands on her waist and pull her into his lap.

Surprise filled her features and she wryly said, "I remember when you couldn't do that."

"There's a lot that I can do now. Stuff that would make the old Steve have an asthma attack. Or die." He paused before moving his hands from her waist to her face, cradling it. "Does it bother you?"

She shook her head. "No. I just…I keep expecting to squish you."

"You never squished me, Darce. Even when I was skin and bones. And after last night, I'm confident you'll never _ever_ squish me."

They were quiet for a few moments, each just holding onto the other as their minds ran back to the night before. In her head, she'd rationalized that she jumped him because her subconscious knew that it was Steve, especially since she was half asleep. The peace she felt was palpable. But being in such strong arms reminded her of Bucky and her heart wanted to break all over again.

Her face was nestled against his throat, her lips flush against his Adam's apple. Eyelashes fluttered against his jaw and he simply held her tighter.

"I never stopped loving you, Darcy." His voice was low and full of emotion. Her hands knotted in his t-shirt as she listened to the reassuring rumble of his voice. "Even after the postcards stopped coming; I knew you'd come home to us."

"Postcards?" She asked, pulling back just enough so she could look at him. "I only sent a couple and that was before I came home to visit."

"Darce, I've got postcards from all over that you sent us. The last one was from Honolulu in '41. Buck and I thought." He swallowed hard, blinking away the wetness that was trying to gather in his eyes. "We thought we lost you in Pearl Harbor. That's why we enlisted."

Her eyebrows were in her hairline. "I've never been to Hawaii. HYDRA must've sent them – "

"HYDRA?"

Steve's tone of voice and sudden stillness had her tensed along with him. She scrambled to get enough of her wits about her to nod. "Me and Talia were part of the KGB, part of HYDRA."

"But – "

"It's why I don't age. Why my memory is like swiss cheese. They used electric shock therapy and cattle prods and whips." She shuddered, her eyes downcast. "They…took me from myself."

He grimaced. "They took you from _me_."

"Steve – "

"You were _mine_. And Bucky's." His voice cracked a little as his fingers tangled in her hair and made their eyes meet. "Bucky never stopped believing that you were alive. He…he was captured by HYDRA, too." He paused, shaking his head. "He said he saw you. Before I rescued him. Said you were there and we had to save you. What if he was right – "

"I was too far gone, Stevie. You couldn't have saved me if you tried."

They were silent. He knew that it wouldn't be easy. That she wouldn't have a simple story of why she was kept alive for so long. Her body was the exact same as he remembered it, practically frozen at eighteen while he had more years after her. More years alone after Bucky died.

"You…do you remember anything from after you visited us? After…after my ma died?"

She nodded slowly. "I remember going back to Russia and there was a doctor…he helped me, but he was bad, Stevie," she looked up at him with wide eyes. "He gave me this shot and then…and then locked me away. I don't remember as much. It comes in bits and pieces, but his name was something odd."

"Have you tried to ask JARVIS?"

Darcy looked away, willing the tears from her eyes. "I asked him about Bucky. I…I know he's dead, Steve." She paused, turning back towards him as she whispered, "How did it happen?"

He didn't want to have this conversation, he wasn't _ready_ to have this conversation, but his girl deserved to know. She deserved to know that Bucky had gotten a Purple Heart and Bronze Star Medal for his sacrifice for his country.

"In the war, I was meant to be like a performing monkey. Kinda like your circus get-up, but less fire," he smiled, remembering how beautiful she'd looked in that little costume. "Bucky and his regiment was trapped behind enemy lines and I was little more than a peon, but I stormed in with what I could gather soldier wise and got 'em out. From then on, I started callin' myself Captain and it kind of stuck.

"We raided a lot of HYDRA facilities, took 'em down, but there was a doctor we were after. Heard he was experimenting on people, trying to copy the serum that Erskine gave me. Our reg – we called ourselves the Howling Commandos – pinpointed what train he'd be on. Made it our mission to get to him." He paused, swallowing thickly. "We used a makeshift zipline to get onto the train and we all made it, but that son of a bitch was prepared. Had Nazis everywhere, firing at anything that moved. Bucky was in the way, but…he moved quick enough. They blew a hole in the side of the train and I tried to get to him…"

Darcy put her hand over her mouth in horror, trying to stifle the sob that was threatening to break out. Her little hand clutched against shoulder tightly and he pushed on.

"He had a bad grip on the train. I managed to get over to him, but we couldn't…I couldn't grab him fast enough. His last words were tellin' me to find our girl." Steve cupped her face in his hands, thumbing away her tears as he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against her salty lips. "He swore up and down that you were alive. That he saw you at that HYDRA facility when they captured him. Fuck…he was probably right."

She nuzzled her face against his neck. "I'm so sorry, Stevie."

He shook his head. "We never even found out what Zola wanted. The UN offered him a deal after we arrested him – Darce, what's wrong, honey?"

"Zola?" She asked, pulling away and removing herself from his lap completely. "Dr. Zola… _Arnim_ Zola. He had me, Stevie. He had me! He was the doctor I met in Russia. He…he gave me a shot and…they put me in the Red Room when he didn't come back. The KGB! It was all because of him!"

 _"Things are not as they seem, Captain Rogers."_

 _Steve stilled for a moment, turning a curious eye to the man. "How do you know my name?"_

 _Dr. Zola shrugged, adjusting his glasses. "I make it a priority to know my…asset's potential adversaries."_

"You…were an asset, weren't you?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"I didn't have a choice."

* * *

 _May 14, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

When Darcy woke up in a strange place with a body curled around her like ivy, she stilled so much that she scarcely breathed.

She did inventory. Strange room, three windows, nightstand with a lamp and alarm clock, heavy presence behind her.

"Darce?" Steve asked sleepily, causing a whoosh of air to leave her lungs in relief. She snuggled back against him closer, dragging his arm from around her waist to between her breasts. His left hand cradled the right side of her face and she sighed in contentment.

"You still have it," she whispered. She pulled away just far enough to look at the steel band wrapped around his ring finger.

 _"I made these, too," the brunet said when he pulled away, opening the smaller box and revealing two matching steel bands._

Her fingers traced over the edges of his words. It was her first time seeing them since Steve always wore long sleeved shirts that buttoned at the wrists before. Now, he wore t-shirts and unbuttoned flannels. It was…odd.

"Why wouldn't I?" He murmured back shifting so she could read his words.

 _Can I help you?_

She laid her head back down in his hand and closed her eyes. "Did I say that to you?"

"Honey – "

Darcy rolled over onto her back and looked up at his face. His brows were drawn together and he looked like he was thinking hard about something. Her hand tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down for a slow kiss.

It was like another piece slid into place. Like she wasn't as far under water as she was before.

"Lord, I missed you," Steve panted as he pulled away. His lips pressed a soft kiss against her forehead and she smiled up at him. "You're so beautiful, honey."

"Do you know what my words say?"

 _Bucky's fingers had reached out of their own accord – really, they did – and he'd unclasped her bracelet with a flick of his wrist. Using the crack of early morning sunlight that filtered through the curtains, he read the words circled around her right wrist._

 _I saw the light._

 _What an odd thing for words to say. Oddly poetic and wholly something Bucky had never thought he'd said. Ever. Most likely something Steve hadn't said either._

 _Before he could think anymore about it, she shuffled in her sleep and he was quick to slide the bracelet back onto her wrist and click it shut._

 _"I shouldn't've looked," Bucky moped, staring at the eggs as if they'd personally offended him. "I broke her trust – "_

 _"I don't like that ya looked, Buck, but it's good to know." Steve stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "We really gotta remember. She said my words, Buck, and she said yours, too! Just gotta dig into out heads and see if we can remember."_

He looked ashamed for just a moment before he shook his head. "We…I never asked. I figured that if we didn't match…Buck said it didn't matter. That you'd be our girl no matter what, but I guess I was scared that you'd leave us…"

She pondered that. She felt the truth in his words, as if she'd thought the same thing at one time. But now she wasn't able to see her words if she wanted to.

"What's goin' on in your head, Darce?"

"Just wish I knew how to get these bracelets off. I want to see my words, too," she said, smiling a little at how the bit of Brooklyn had slipped into his question. "I think we match. I…I know that I have two sets of them, but I can't remember what they say."

His fingers rubbed the steel reassuringly. "You always wore ribbons tied 'round them – where are you going?"

Darcy had scrambled out of the bed in a hurry, knocking her hip against the dresser he had by the door to his room.

" _Motherfuck_ ," she bit out, clutching her hip. Her gait was a bit crooked as she grabbed one of Steve's sketchbooks and a pen, writing her thought down before she forgot.

" _Language_ ," he chided from behind her, his hand going to her hip and rubbing it soothingly as he read over her shoulder. " _Lenta_? Ribbon?"

Resisting the shudder that rolled through her, she nodded. "One of my trigger words. There were a few that I didn't know about – that I couldn't decipher."

He nodded. "What were the other ones?"

"Uh. Fire and circus."

"You were in the circus in…'33." His lips pressed up against the smooth column of her neck and she shivered happily. "It was '35 'fore we saw ya again. Spot took me 'n' Buck to the circus on the edge of town and there ya were, spitting fire and walkin' a tightrope like ya were born to."

She giggled. "I love when ya talk Brooklyn t' me." She paused and tilted her head as he kissed just below her ear. "Who's Spot?"

"Your brother, honey. Spot Conlon?"

There was nothing there. No memory. No feeling. His name didn't ring any metaphorical bells.

"I don't remember," she sighed, pushing away from the small desk and limping into the living room before collapsing onto the couch. She stared at the ceiling as she wracked her brain for anyone named Spot. Who the hell would name their kid Spot?

"His given name was Sean, but he went by Spot." At her odd look, he added, "You said that out loud, honey." He moved her feet up and sat down, letting them fall into his lap. "He's still alive, y'know. Old as dirt, but in a home in Brooklyn, almost his birthday."

Darcy was quiet for a few moments before she spoke. "Can we go see him? Maybe…maybe I'll remember something."

* * *

"You want me to get on _that_?"

Steve handed her a helmet and sighed. "I'm the best driver – "

"You landed a plane in the _ocean_ – "

" – and it'll be quicker than taking a cab."

Darcy stared at the motorbike with apprehension. In the past, Steve wouldn't have been able to hold the damned thing up let alone ride it! Her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth and she shifted her yellow Converse clad feet nervously. The helmet in his hand was still extended towards her and she snatched it away from him and stuffed it on her head.

"That's my girl."

"Shut up, Rogers," she mumbled as she followed suit and swung her leg over the body of the bike, her arms wrapping around his waist tightly.

His hand trailed along the outside of her thigh, making sure it hitched up just right so it wouldn't drag on the cement. He whistled low, "Gotta love modern clothes. Hafta admit I miss the dresses, though."

She blinked owlishly and looked down at her almost-threadbare leggings and grimaced. It was a miracle that she and Steve had just _slept_ the night before. Kissing was one thing, but she was…she was still Darcy, but not the same Darcy that had slept with two men at once. She was self-conscious now, especially when everything she owned was deciding to fall apart at the same time.

"I wore dresses?" She didn't seem the type.

He chuckled. "All the time. Unless ya were wearin' a pair of Bucky's pants. Which looked just as good."

The bike roared to life beneath her and she squeaked, holding on so tight that she was a little disappointed that she hadn't gotten him out of his clothes the night before. The man was _ripped_.

It was about a half hour ride to Brooklyn from Stark Tower. Darcy used the time to appraise the streets, see if anything was familiar while Steve simply enjoyed the feeling of his girl's arms around him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't starved for attention. But not just any attention, _her_ attention.

He knew deep down that if Darcy wouldn't have ended up alive, that he wouldn't have lasted very long in the Avengers Initiative. He wouldn't have quit, no, but he would have done his damndest to get put out of comission when the assignments started rolling out.

 _"Peggy…this is my choice." Steve sighed, pulling the faded photograph of Darcy out of his suit and placing it near the gauges on the dash. Taking a deep breath, he pushed down on the controls, watching the clouds zoom past him as the plane nosedived. His eyes were drawn to Darcy, hoping that he'd finally get to see her and Bucky again._

He had been prepared to end it when he put the Valkyrie down. Prepared to see Darcy again and hold her and love her.

Now, nearly seventy years later, he had her on the back of his bike, her little hands flush against his abdomen. It was good. Life was _good_. There was bound to be obstacles like her memory and learning to live without Bucky, but he was in it for the long haul. Even fully prepared to step down from his role as Captain America to give his girl the dream of being in the country where nothing could touch them.

Steve wasn't paying attention to the streets, allowing muscle memory to take over and get them to their destination. He hadn't bothered calling ahead, figuring Spot would just wave it off as a crank call. It was his birthday and he'd be expecting guests anyway.

As soon as he parked the bike, Darcy was off like a shot, vomiting in the bushes right next to the sidewalk.

"Maybe we should take a cab next time," he said slowly as he grabbed the helmet she'd thrown towards him and stowed it under the seat. He took a minute to really look at her – he hadn't really done much other than moon over her – and he watched her body language as she slowly righted herself.

Darcy was a bit harder than he remembered. Her movements were rigid and she seemed to curl in on herself more often than not. The way she painted her lips was still the same, but she didn't show off her body like he was used to, choosing instead to wear shapeless sweaters and oversized shirts he had a hunch were Barton's. Her blue eyes were more guarded, but her smile was just as carefree when she chose to grace him with it. It was like she was scared of herself when all he wanted to do was adore her.

It had been hell convincing Barton that she would be safe with him. The archer wanted to send a detail and use coms, but it wasn't necessary. Steve could protect her if anything went south. Hell, he was sure she could protect _herself_.

 _"I don't like it," Barton had said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Steve with distaste. "At least let me or Nat come with – "_

 _"She wants to see her brother._ Alone _. Her safety is my number one priority. Nothing will happen."_

 _"And what if HYDRA shows up? What are you gonna do about it?"_

 _"Protect her, Barton. I'm a soldier. I know what I'm doing."_

"Jesus, I'm dying."

Steve's attention snapped back to her and he frowned before handing her a handkerchief. "You're not _dying_."

"Did I always have motion sickness?" She asked, wiping her mouth and pocketing the scrap of fabric. "Or is this new?"

"You never had it that I knew of. But we didn't drive a lot of places – normally walked. Brooklyn was…not small, but small enough."

His hand went to her waist and she snuggled into his side, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I've missed you," she whispered, pressing a kiss just above his ribs.

"You don't know the half of it."

They made their way up the outside stairs of the senior home slowly, relishing in being able to hold each other. He got the door for her and ushered her inside, although he _did_ stare at her ass while he did so.

He was still a man, after all.

There was a tired looking woman that was sitting behind the desk that was tucked in the right hand corner of the lobby and she looked down over her glasses at them.

"Can I help you two?"

Steve stepped up and smiled at the woman. "We're here to see Sean Conlon. My name's Steve and this is Darcy – "

"Neither of you are on his visitor list," the woman cut him off after flipping through a few papers.

The blond sighed and nodded. "Of course, ma'am. I just figured it would be real nice to visit him. See, it's his birthday and I thought a visit from Captain America might be a good present. It's not everyday that someone turns – "

"Did you say _Captain America_?" The woman's entire attitude changed and she got up from her chair and crowded the pair of them down a hall. "I can't turn away one of Brooklyn's finest. Do you mind if we get a photo? Oh, I'm sure Spot will be beside himself."

Darcy rolled her eyes at his ' _ma'am_ ' routine. She wondered how many other women had fallen for it and suddenly she felt her stomach turn uncomfortably. It's not like she was a stranger to jealousy – hell, she felt it each time she had walked to the market with the boys and they turned more than a few heads, even with Steve being small – and she didn't like it one bit.

Her jealousy, however, took a back burner as Steve allowed her to flit into the room the woman had stopped in front of, promising that he'd join her as soon as the woman got a few pictures.

Darcy took in the sparse room and she was beginning to wonder if that was what her new life was about.

 _Sparseness_.

It was weird when she had memories of Steve's house being homey and full of life and Bucky's house being as lived in as they come. Spot's room was literally a bed, a desk, a rocking chair by the window, and a little chest of drawers. There were two other doors and she assumed one was a closet and the other a bathroom respectively. But she wasn't so much as paying attention to the room as she was the man sitting in the rocking chair, gazing out the window.

Closing the door behind her, she knocked on the wall. "Mr. Conlon?"

"If you're here t' give me my meds, ya can fuck right th' fuck off."

She stumbled, a little taken aback by his words as a small flood of memories came back from hearing his voice. She shook her head and tried again. "I'm actually here t' see ya."

He turned and glared at her, his hand going to his chest a second later. "Christ a' mighty, I'm dead, ain't I?"

Spot definitely looked his age. His face was lined with wrinkles and his hair had mostly gone white, well, what he had left of it. A pair of red suspenders held up his khaki pants and there was still a dimple in his chin. But his eyes were what got her. They still looked young, still ready for life and what Brooklyn had to throw at him.

"Hi, Spot," she whispered as she made her way over to him, slipping to her knees next to the rocking chair and looking up at his face in wonder.

 _"Never seen a doll sell papers," he shook his head as he chuckled._

"I gotta be dead. Ya takin' me t' heaven, doll?"

Darcy laughed and swiped at the tear that had trailed down her cheek. "You're not dead. I came t' see ya for your birthday." The Brooklyn came out of her without her permission, but she didn't care.

"Darcy…" His hand shook as he reached out and cupped her cheek, causing her to smile widely as she hiccupped. "I've gotta be dead t' be seein' ya, doll. Ya died…in Pearl Harbor. That's wha' those boys were sayin' 'bout ya. Damn near lost my mind."

"I didn't die, Spot. I'm still here." She shook her head. "It's a long story, but I'm still me. Steve…Steve's here, too. We're a little different than you."

He chuckled. "Well, get up on the bed, doll. Might as well tell me everythin'. I've got nothin' but time."

She complied, content with just staring at him before she started. "It all started when I went to Russia…"

* * *

 **Be sure to leave a review!**

 **~Grace**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

 _May 18, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

" _Sirena_."

Her entire body snapped to attention, her blue eyes trained on the deceptively small form of the redhead.

" _Myshka –_ "

"Goddammit!" She growled, shaking out her limbs as she rolled her neck. The topic of her trigger words was almost completely off the table until she could learn to deflect her codename. Successfully. And it was proving to be far more difficult than she imagined.

Darcy's hair was pulled up in a tight bun and her body was dripping with sweat from the paces Natasha was putting her through.

"Can you just shove me back into the damned chair? I'd be well-trained at least."

Natasha struck out and attempted to get the brunette's feet out from underneath her, but ended up flat on her back for the trouble.

"HYDRA is never going to get their hands on you again, _myshka_ ," the Widow said, slightly out of breath as she leapt seamlessly back to her feet. "That chair is a thing of your past."

"With I could forget it like almost everything else," she mumbled as she wiped her forehead with the underside of her shirt.

"Steve said you've been having nightmares."

" _Fucking gossip_."

Natasha raised a perfectly arched brow and tilted her head. "What're you dreaming, _myshka_?"

She sighed and leaned up against the wall of the gym. Her eyes focused on the glass wall on the right side of the room, seeing only the city of Manhattan below. "It's the Red Room. And metal…it's not always a nightmare. Sometimes, it's good, too, and I don't want to makde up. But I'm not sure if they're memories or something else."

"You're remembering," she said quietly. "I told you that you were close to my handler…" She trailed off for a moment. " _Soldat_. He had a metal arm – a _gift_ from HYDRA," she scoffed with a shake of her head. "There were…incidents between you. I don't know exactly, but he was removed as my handler shortly after we recovered you from Brooklyn. He…he had the serum as well. Different from both of ours, more like Steve's. He went dark after you were recovered in '89. I couldn't find anything after I defaulted about either of you. Truthfully, I thought they killed the program."

Darcy sighed. "And you don't know his name?"

"You know better than I do that they take everything from us."

And she did. It was painful when Steve would retell a story from their youth and she'd just smile and nod, filing away information that she'd write down in her journal later. Everyday was a struggle.

"Mind if I steal Darce for a little while?"

The brunette looked up and spotted Clint lingering in the doorway with a nervous smile on his face.

"I think we're done for today, anyway," Natasha nodded, slipping forward and pressing a kiss to Darcy's crown before sliding out of the gym.

Darcy kicked off the comfy tennis shoes she'd been wearing and scooped them up as she shuffled towards the locker room. "What's up, soldier?" She asked over her shoulder, trusting that he'd follow her.

"Haven't really talked to you much," he replied. She could hear the concern in his voice. "Wanted to make sure you were okay."

Stuffing her shoes into her locker, she turned to face him with a lopsided smile. "You can drop by any time you'd like – "

"The same could be said for you."

She had to give him that. Since rediscovering that Steve was alive, she'd pretty much dropped everything to re-bond with him. She hadn't been baking in the lounge or joining movie night on Fridays. The only person that she really saw besides him was Natasha. She'd practically dropped Clint after throwing herself at him as soon as she'd been healed.

"I've been a pretty shitty best friend, huh?"

Clint cracked a smile. "I've known worse."

"About what happened before – "

"You don't have to apologize, sweetheart," he said quickly, his gaze dropping to her polished toes. "I would've acted on it. I _wanted_ to act on it. You're just so young, Darce – don't give me that look – I…I love you so much and I'm glad you found Steve again."

She smiled, bumping her hip against his. "Pretty weird, huh?"

"Like a snowflake's chance in hell," Clint agreed before he smirked. "He's the snowflake though. You're the damn fire."

* * *

 _May 24, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

" _There's a symposium_!"

Darcy groaned into the phone, her forehead thunking against Steve's bare chest. His fingers traced nonsense patterns on her skin beneath her shirt – _his shirt_ – and she shivered.

"When?" She asked, mentally pulling up her calendar.

" _In a week_ ," Jane's chipper voice said before getting a little meek. "It's in Moscow."

The brunette swallowed and pushed herself into sitting position. Her eyes closed against the flashes of memories. The Red Room, the academy, _Zola_.

Steve followed her up, concern coloring his features. "Honey?"

" _Please, Darce? Thor's stuck in Asgard and I don't want to go by myself_!"

"I'll be there," Darcy finally said, taking the hand Steve offered and squeezing. "Can I bring – "

" _You can bring whoever you want_!" Jane rushed to agree. " _As long as you're here for the symposium_!"

The women chattered for a few more moments before saying their goodbyes. Darcy tossed her phone towards the foot of the bed and collapsed against the fluff of pillows that Steve insisted on adorning his bed with.

She wasn't sure what time it was, but sunlight was already filling the room so she figured it was about time to get up and flood her bloodstream with coffee.

"So…" the blond trailed off before awkwardly saying, "Russia."

"Is it too late to back out?"

"You don't have to go, honey," he said softly, trying to pry the pillow out of her hand that she'd tried to smother herself with. "Or, I can come with you. Or Barton." The way he said the other man's name had her peeking out from beneath her pillow.

"Steve…are you jealous of Clint?"

He rolled his blue eyes and sighed, "I'm not _jealous_."

"Steve Grant Rogers, I know your jealous face."

 _"She is his girl, but he was her boy first," Natasha had said cryptically._

"I just don't understand the relationship," he said, running his hand through his hair that was sticking up adorably. The bathroom door across the room was suddenly more interesting as he spoke his mind. "You told me that you knew him before. You had this whole life while I was stuck in ice. It's just different than what I'm used to. You and Spot were close. You and Clint are the same, I think. I'll get used to it, honey."

* * *

 _May 30, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower_

"I hate saying goodbye to you."

Darcy understood Steve's sentiment completely. The air from the quinjet made her hair whip around her face, causing him to tuck a stray lock behind her ear. She leaned into his touch and wished she hadn't let Natasha talk her out of backing out.

 _"You need to explore your past,_ myshka _," the redhead had said as she zipped up Darcy's bag. "You have red in your ledger, no? It's a good time to clear it out."_

And now, she and Natasha were headed to the symposium for a weekend that she was _not_ looking forward to. She'd been told that the Red Room was disbanded officially by Agent Peggy Carter, but Natasha believed it was only a cover to distract SHIELD; the redhead didn't trust anyone.

It was a way to help Darcy get her head clear. Steve promised he's be just a phone call away – he was being called away to D.C. to deal with damage control for something or other – but that didn't really put her at ease.

"Honey?"

She blinked back to the present and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. She didn't really want to get herself all worked up since they'd decided to enforce a strict no sec rule until Bruce could have time to figure out a viable birth control option – Steve was more than happy to welcome a bundle of joy, but Darcy felt like she was missing something important.

Technically, she was still young and mainly trying to adjust to her memories of 1930's New York and the here and now. It was hard.

"I'm going to miss you _so much_."

He sighed against her. "We'll go on a date when you get back, honey. Go see a show and maybe go dancin'." She giggled as his Brooklyn bled through. "I'll show ya a real swell time, doll."

"Fuck, I love you."

" _Myshka_ , it's time," Natasha called from the jet.

Steve locked eyes with Darcy, pinning her with his blue gaze. "I love you, Darcy. You better come home to me."

She sniffed. "I always do, Steve."

* * *

 **Let me know what you thought! Part four is going to be up soon (read _today_ ), so be sure to look for it!**

 **~Grace**


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